The Devil's Poison
by CodeAliasWave
Summary: The prophecies of the Thieves Guild aren't so secret. Everyone knows about Le Diable Blanc. Each Guild did their best to use him to their advantage. But is a lesser known prophecy the key to Assassin rule? If they acquire Le Poison du Diable, will the odds turn back to their favor? Or will the prophecies end in both Guilds' ruination? Romy, AU.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer:

**Marvel owns all.**I've just invited them over to my house to play.

**A/N:** This is an AU to any of the cannons, so only the basics are going to be the same. For categorization purposes, I like movieverse best!

I was holding this one off until I got to the "good" part, but then I realized I would be like 5 chapters in and publishing them all at once and I didn't want to do that. However, you do get 2 chapters today!

**Thanks**

To my beta, FaeMarked, who started Twilight fics but never got around to posting (or finishing, hint hint). Thank you for indulging my resurging X-Men craze!**  
**

**Prologue**

"We were too late, Patriarch. De Thieves took de child before we could acquire him." The masked assassin prostrated himself at Marius Boudreaux's feet.

Rising from his throne deep within the bowels of the Assassin's Guild headquarters, Marius calmly stepped down the dais toward the cowering assassin.

With a gentle voice, he prodded: "Am I t' understand that yo' failure has left me wit' no other avenue t' gain control of both Guilds?" Marius circled behind him, raising his voice to a fervor that matched the swift kick to the man's ribs. "I must now marry my only daughter not only int' that den of Thieves, but also t' that street filth _Le Diable Blanc_?"

He referred of course to the Thieves' precious "white devil" prophecy: a vessel for the King of the Old Kingdom that would bring back the glory of those ancient times and unite the warring Thieves and Assassins Guilds. With the child in the Thieves' possession, Marius could see no other means than a marriage of convenience to gain power during this unification struggle.

Receiving no further response, Marius signaled for the man to be eliminated. Slowly and painfully. Several other assassins stepped out of the darkened room's shadows to heed their Patriarch's command. The sound of skilled hands flogging defeated flesh filled the room. With his back still turned against the melee, Marius flicked his wrist to finish the failure.

Before the final blow could be delivered, the lone assassin managed to regain enough breath to muster a strangled, "No."

"No?" Marius spun around to appraise him. The Patriarch's word was enough to halt the execution.

"No." Clutching his ribs, the man garnered the strength to rise to his knees. "There was talk at de Antiquary's of a second prophecy."

"Lies! There is no other prophecy." The right price had been paid to the right thief. Marius knew all of the Thieves' secrets. "Everythin' leads t' _Le Diable Blanc's _reign. An' yo' inadequacy has handed over our Guild wit' no fight!" Marius shouted.

"There is no need t' fight if we can get _Le Poison du Diable_." With his last ounce of strength, the assassin stood to his full height.

Only the most senior Guild members noticed Marius' momentary hesitation. "An' why should I believe_ you_?"

Looking the Patriarch dead in the eye, the man ruthlessly answered: "The poison's power will be de downfall of _Le Diable Blanc_."

"If what y' say is true, then I'll have both Guilds an' _mon princesse pr__é__cieux_." Marius contemplated as he moved back to his throne.

Thinking the revelation redeemed him, the assassin bowed with a gracious, "_Oui, _Patriarch."

An eerie silence filled the chamber. As Patriarch, Marius had shown no weakness three months prior when his coveted wife died during Bella Donna's birth. Her beauty had been unmatched, but she was no more than another of his possessions earned literally through the blood of others. Only the children she favored him mattered and she'd fulfilled her purpose five years previous when she'd delivered Marius' heir and son, Julien.

It was no secret that his children were his most precious possessions. Julien had been spoiled since the day he was born. He had been raised to be the next Patriarch of the Assassin's Guild. But since the birth of _Le Diable Blanc_ a few weeks prior, all of Marius' machinations for Julien were obliterated. There had been only one scenario in which Julien could assume his rightful place and that hinged on the Assassins acquiring _Le Diable Blanc_ before the Thieves. Marius could have adopted the demon child as his own, second born to the pureblooded Julien. The Thieves would have had to bow to Assassins rule in order for the prophecy to be fulfilled.

But thanks to the wasted excuse of a man before him, all remaining scenarios stripped Julien of his birthright and instead placed it entirely on Bella Donna's shoulders. With _Le Poison du Diable_, Marius could still gain the Thieves Guild through Bella Donna's marriage while bequeathing the Assassins Guild to Julien. _Le Diable Blanc_ would unite the Guilds, but it would be Marius' children who actually ruled them. Nowhere in the prophecy was it specified how long the white devil would live after uniting the Guilds. _Le Poison du Diable_ would quickly remove him from the picture.

As he settled on his gilded chair, Marius waved to three other assassins still hidden in the shadows. "Find _Le Poison du Diable_."

The assassins bowed with a straight back, hands clasped into touching fists and thumbs pressed against their foreheads. It was the ultimate sign of loyalty and respect within the Guild.

Turning his attention back to the disgraced man, Marius said: "Y', on de other hand, have failed me for de last time."

The other assassins encircled the man as he begged for his life. "_S'il vous pla__î__t __é__pargnez-moi, mon Patriarche_! _Je vous en supplie_!"

As his dying screams filled the air and his life blood poured through the grated floor, Marius shook his head. "I was wrong. Y' failed me again."

A small boy approached from behind his throne, cradling a swaddled three month old babe. As Marius gently took the sleeping Bella Donna, he turned to his young son to remind him, "No assassin begs!"

**(X)**

_Le Poison du Diable - _The Devil's Poison

_S'il vous pla__î__t __é__pargnez-moi, mon Patriarche_! _Je vous en supplie_! - Please spare me, Patriarch! I beg you!


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I know this seems Remy/Bella heavy, but have patience. Our favorite sassy Southern gal shows up next chapter!

**Chapter 1 **

**24 years later**

Bella Donna moaned as her lover grazed his teeth across her neck, his hands wandering to places he knew well from experience. As she reclined on the bed and wrapped her legs around his waist, she ran her fingers through his silky long brown hair.

The danger of her secret relationship with her father's enemy only heightened the excitement. One wrong move, one slip of the tongue and her father would know that not only was Remy LeBeau her longtime boyfriend but that she'd been sleeping with him since they were seventeen. He was her first everything. And if she had her way, he'd be her last. She was living her own version of _Romeo and Juliet_.

But that's where their problems started. Belle had been after Remy for years to run off to Vegas together. If they got married before her father found out, there would be no way he could have the marriage annulled. Remy, however, would have nothing to do with it.

He'd promised over and over again that he loved only her and yet he wouldn't make that ultimate commitment. If he really loved her as much as he professed, why was it so hard to marry her? And that didn't even touch on the tired old story he gave her every time she brought it up. It always ended with him not wanting to hide any longer and being completely open with both his family and hers and blah, blah, blah.

When she'd push too far, he'd distract her with sex. Oh, Remy was very good at the whole seduction technique. He swore to her that he'd never been unfaithful. But he also wouldn't tell her exactly what he'd done while on contract to obtain something for the Thieves. Not to mention the times when they were on hiatus and free to date (or fuck) other people. When they were nineteen, they'd been officially broken up for an entire year.

And it wasn't like Belle had been his only lover. She certainly hadn't been his first. His cousins were fond of stories that Remy had been fourteen when he had his first sexual encounter, not that he'd ever admit to it when she directly confronted him. Still, she'd long ago figured out his method of distraction was usually sex.

So here she was, instead of moaning in delight at all the wonderful things Remy could do with his talented tongue, Bella Donna was faking an orgasm to get him off her. Then she could go sulk in silence without causing him to disappear for days after one of their more violent rows. She never could be sure how faithful he was during their short spats. Their longer breaks were indicative of his lack of commitment.

After a particularly false cry, too dramatic even to her own ears, Belle suddenly refocused. She winced when Remy stopped his ministrations and sat up.

"What's de matter, Belle?" He asked, not bothering to hide his frustration as he ran his hands over his face.

Attempting to pull him back down to her, she quickly answered, "Nothin', _cher._"

"_C'est des conneries_!" Remy shouted as he climbed off the bed and strode to the other side of his French Quarter apartment. It was their secret hideaway he'd secured after his Tracts of Passage.

He slammed his fist against the wall, irritated not only from her attitude but the pent up sexual tension. He'd caught onto her game too. He knew she figured out his distraction technique to stop conversations about getting married. But he didn't care if she faked it so long as he didn't have to talk about a wedding. Of course, that was also when he could overlook her pretenses and still get off in the end. Recently, she'd become lazy and even he couldn't find release when she laid there like a limp fish.

"Tell me what's goin' on wit' y', Belle." Remy pleaded as he leaned against the wall, hanging his head in the space he created with his arms.

With a sigh, Bella Donna confessed for the umpteenth time: "Remy, I just want t' be yo' wife. Why is that so hard t' give me?"

The truth was that Remy was head over heels in love with her. She was his first love, his only love. And he couldn't imagine a day in his life without her by his side. But he also knew his father had been trying to work out a deal with Bella Donna's father for years now, working so that the plan seemed like it was all Marius' idea instead of Jean-Luc's or Remy's.

It was actually the only thing that had kept him alive after Marius found out he'd taken his precious daughter's purity. Bella Donna was a fool if she thought her father and her brother didn't know they'd been carrying on together all this time. If it had been up to Julien, there would have been a duel to the death over Belle's lost innocence.

"For once, can't y' just let me do somethin' in my own time? My own way?" He asked as he spun back around to face her.

It bothered him that she was always pushing for them to get a quickie marriage. Girls may have dreams of their perfect wedding day that boys never even considered, but he'd always thought that he would at least be able to propose when and how he wanted.

Remy had actually bought her an engagement ring, a five carat fancy yellow radiant solitaire lined with white pave set diamonds. It was a gaudy thing she'd picked out, "fit for a Boudreaux-LeBeau" because she insisted her name would be hyphenated. But he'd been waiting for a reprieve from her nagging, hoping she'd drop it long enough for him to surprise her with it. That reprieve had initially been six months, whittled down to three, then one, then two weeks, before he finally settled on a handful of days. And yet the only time he ever got a break from her marriage talk was when they had one of their days-long fights.

"_Qu__é__quette!_ If I wait for 'yo' own time', I'll be an old maid!" Bella Donna shouted back, no longer caring if she saw him any time soon.

Not wanting to fall prey to one of her screaming matches, Remy grabbed his trench coat and headed toward the door.

"Y' have _absolument_ no patience." He answered as he flung the coat around his shoulders.

Scrambling off the bed, she quickly followed him. "An' just where do y' think yo' goin'? I wasn't finished talkin' yet!"

Remy opened the door, but turned around to face her one last time. "_Bon_ for y', _petite_, 'cause I'm finished talkin' for de both of us."

Without waiting for one of her scathing retorts, he stomped out and slammed the door in her face. Bella Donna stood there for a moment before she let the tears well in her eyes. How stupid of a lovesick fool was she to hang on to Remy's every word, even the harsh ones when he left like this? When it was obvious he wouldn't be back anytime soon, she brushed away the few fallen teardrops, straightened her shoulders, and headed out of the apartment. She was the Princess of Assassins. And no man would take away her power, much less her self-esteem.

**(X)-(X)-(X)**

With seemingly no place else to go, Remy showed up at the LeBeau Manor an hour after leaving Bella Donna. He'd cruised around on his motorcycle for a short time as he tried to clear his head, but his troubled mind had unconsciously taken him to the only place he'd known true solace.

If only Marius would agree to the arrangement Remy's father was presenting. Belle would be off his back about marriage, they wouldn't have to sneak around any longer since their relationship would be in the open, and hopefully the Guilds would find some peace.

Jean-Luc would step down as the Guildmaster while encouraging the Council to elect Remy as his replacement. Marius would then abdicate and bequeath the Assassin's throne to Bella Donna, much to her brother Julien's displeasure. Each Guild would remain controlled by their respective heirs and only the marriage would serve as the unifying factor.

Marriage. That was the other problem with Belle's bitching. Sure, Remy loved her. He had ever since he'd first laid puppy love eyes on her. But he was young and had hardly gotten to enjoy life outside of the Guilds. Somehow, he always thought he'd get to live more before settling in to take Jean-Luc's place.

Not to mention that despite what she thought, Bella Donna was pretty much the only girl he'd ever been with. That's not to say he didn't have sex with other women, but always only when they were on the outs. Besides, sex was different than a relationship and Belle had been the only one with whom he'd actually tried to make that work. If their current state was any indication, how was he ever going to make a marriage work?

"Remy! Where've y' been, _fr__é__rot_? _P__è__re_ has been tryin' t' reach y' for de last _deux_ hours." His brother Henri asked as soon as he walked in the door.

Still sour after leaving Bella Donna, he snidely asked, "_Pourquoi_?"

"Because, Marius an' Julien Boudreaux showed up _trente minutes_ ago an' have been locked in _P__è__re's _office ever since." Henri tried to instill the urgency in his brother.

Remy's mouth popped open as he rushed down the hall, Henri in tow. "_Quoi? Pourqoui_?" He asked.

"Don' know. _P__è__re_ received de call an' said we should only let _you_ in once y' got here." Henri answered when they arrived at Jean-Luc's heavy Brazilian Kingwood door.

Pausing for a moment to calm his racing heart, Remy reflected on all the times he'd stood in front of the intricately carved door. As his eyes traced over the lines of the Thieves Guild crest, he thought about how many times his life had changed in this office, how many more times this room would affect him. With his best poker face schooling his features, he firmly knocked on the glossy lacquered door.

"_Entrez_." His father's strong voice called.

Pressing his palm against the brass hand that served as a handle, he swung the door inward to find his father, Marius, and Julien sitting in the antique leather club chairs surrounding the marble fireplace. It was late spring, so the staff had placed fresh sprigs of red pepper irises in the hearth.

The last empty chair remained next to his father. The seating arrangement was not lost on Remy. Normally, anyone visiting his father would sit at one of the chairs in front of his desk, his father remaining in the position of power behind it. But this scenario called for equals: two Guildmasters, two heirs. Marius and Julien sat on one side while Jean-Luc and Remy mirrored the image on the other.

"Remy, _mon gar__ç__on_. I was just explainin' t' Marius that y' were on yo' way back from Guild business." Jean-Luc greeted, his eyes never leaving his guests.

Remy answered as he slid into the empty chair, "_Oui_, _Père_. Got held up in _Vieux Carr__é_."

"_Ouais_, _fais mon sœur_." Julien whooshed out on a breath as he raised his bourbon glass to his lips.

"_Suffisamment_!" Marius quietly chastised. "That is not how we greet _famille_."

With a look that belied his apologetic words, Julien smartly answered, "_Bien sûr. Excusez-moi_."

Remy's heart skipped a beat before he worked to keep his composure. Was Marius really implying that he'd finally agreed to Jean-Luc's arrangement? As his eyes surreptitiously took in both men's body language, he'd never been more thankful for his thief's training than in that moment.

As usual, Marius' posture was stiff, uncomfortable. Paying a visit to the Thieves had always been looked down upon by the Assassins. The killers for hire always viewed themselves as the royalty above the petty street scum criminal. Not only did the Assassin Patriarch look inconvenienced, his domineering countenance actually brought a foreboding atmosphere to the meeting.

Accepting a drink from his father, Remy glanced over to Julien. Bella Donna's brother had been his rival for as long as he'd been a part of the LeBeau family. Always the first to defend him, Belle often reminded Remy that her family was just looking out for her best interests.

But Julien's self-entitled attitude seemed to extend beyond just being the heir of the Assassins Guild or simple brotherly affections. She was always teling Remy how she had been interrogated by Julien after one of their rendezvous, almost to the point of a sick obsession. All Remy knew was that if he had a sister, he wouldn't be near as interested in her personal life as Julien was about Belle.

Seeing the older man languidly relaxed in the leather seat while sipping some of Jean-Luc's finest bourbon was more than out of character. The twinkle in his eye and near imperceptible smirk tugging on his lips told Remy that Julien had something up his sleeve and couldn't be trusted, not that he ever did.

"Now that Remy is here, I feel we can finally get down t' business. After all, he is de subject of our discussion t'day." Marius said as he set aside his glass.

"An' 'bout what exactly is this discussion involvin' _mon fils_?" Jean-Luc asked.

It was another carefully measured move. Even seemingly meaningless meetings between the Guilds were about politics: what was said; how it was said; who said it. All of these things played a large factor in any compromise between the warring factions. In this case, Jean-Luc was forcing Marius to say exactly what the Thieves had been wanting for several years now.

"I'm tired of de fighting, _mon ami_. An' if I'm t' have any peace at home, it means we must first have peace between our Guilds. I believe it is time t' join a son of LeBeau wit' a daughter of Boudreaux." Marius intoned.

Remy couldn't believe his ears. He and Bella Donna could finally be free and open about their relationship. But there was always a catch when dealing with either Guild. Both were masters of deception in their own rights.

"So y' accept Remy's offer of marriage t' Bella Donna?" Jean-Luc reiterated.

"Not quite. We have some provisions." Marius' words dumped a proverbial bucket of cold water on Remy's head.

As he sat quietly to observe, his father continued the negotiations, "An' what might those be?"

"Since this is so momentous an occasion, y' won' begrudge that de ceremony take place at Sacred Heart of St. Cecilia." Marius's statement was genial, but his tone was demanding. Unsurprisingly, it was the Assassin's and Boudreaux's cathedral.

"Of course not." Jean-Luc appeased with a tight smile.

"Nor that Archbishop D'Arceneaux will witness de marriage." Another thinly veiled demand.

"As y' said, dis is a momentous occasion. Who else but de archbishop should witness?" Actually, Jean-Luc would have insisted on this term himself if Marius hadn't already brought it up.

"An' that de archbishop obtain de Rite of Marriage and Consent," Marius absently twirled his glass before looking up to Jean-Luc, "For validity purposes." He added.

This request gave the thieves pause. In a Catholic ceremony, the couple normally came to the marriage giving their own consent. It was not out of the question for the archbishop to obtain the consent through questions, though it was uncommon. Remy looked to his father and in a silent exchange that comes from being family, agreed to the term.

"If that is de only unusual stipulation, then we have no objections." Jean-Luc conceded.

"There is just one last thing. Once de happy couple is wed, de bride and groom will live exclusively at de LeBeau Manor t' honor their marriage vows." Marius commanded with a steely gaze leveled at Remy.

Jean-Luc also focused on his son as he waited for an answer. Without needing it spelled out, Marius was basically telling Remy that there would be no jaunts down to the apartment in the French Quarter. No late nights out playing poker. He would be expected to stay home and bed his wife to produce an heir. Once that happened, things would ease up.

And if he and Bella Donna had a fight, they would have to stay and work things out instead of storming away from each other. Or at the very least, he would have to find a couch in one of the drawing rooms or his father's office.

There would also be no divorce, not that Remy could ever see wanting one. So any infidelity on either his or her side would result in a break of the tenuous alliance their marriage would bring. And the underlying consequence at best was exile and at worst was death if any cheating could be proved.

All of these factors were heavy for a young man in his prime to accept. But Remy loved Bella Donna. And if committing to all of these terms meant he was allowed to formally and publicly declare that love to her, he was willing to do his best.

With a slight nod to his father, he looked straight into Marius's face as he agreed. "_Oui_, that is not a problem."

Jean-Luc gazed back at Marius. "De Thieves find these provisions acceptable and, accordin' t' protocol, officially recognize this proposal."

Everyone rose as they drily chuckled at the play on words, but the tension was not alleviated. While Jean-Luc and Marius clenched each other's forearms in agreement, Remy noticed for the first time that Julien was grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

"Didn' think y'd be so happy that I'm marryin' yo' _sœur_." He observed.

Julien slapped his hand a little too hard against Remy's shoulder. "_Au contraire, beau-frère_. I cannot _wait_ for de big event."

Keeping his features schooled, Remy simply smiled back at Julien as he tried to figure out the assassin's game. He and Julien had never gotten along. So why was Bella Donna's brother so amenable now? Marius broke his concentration by clapping him on the back.

"I take it y' won' object t' a week from Sunday? I'm sure yo' _père_ and I can pull a few strings." His smile was genuine, but the twinkle in his eye matched Julien's mirth.

It was quick but Remy was sure that once she got word, Bella Donna wouldn't want to wait a moment more than necessary. "_Non, monsieur_."

"None of that now, _gendre_!" Marius waved him away. "What are y' waitin' for? Go break de news and propose t' _ma fille_."

"_Bien sûr_!" Remy beamed. In less than two weeks, he'd be married to the love of his life.

**(X)**

_C'est des conneries – _This is bull shit

_Qu__é__quette!_ – Dick!

_Quoi? Pourqoui?_ – What? Why?

_Vieux Carr__é – _Cajun name for the French Quarter

_Ouais_, _fais mon sœur_. _– _Yeah, with my sister.

_Suffisamment! _– Enough!

_Au contraire, beau-frère_ – On the contrary, brother-in-law

_Gendre_ – son-in-law


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N :** I struggled with how much Catholicism to include in this chapter. It's not meant to preach or offend anyone. However, the rites that I did detail specifically have to do with setting up the plot and understanding motivations for a Catholic. And since Marvel has said that Gambit was raised in a Catholic household, I wanted to stay true to the mentality and beliefs such an upbringing would instill. I believe the way I've got it laid out, you can skip ahead sections if the anything is truly bothersome. But DON'T skip the WHOLE chapter!

Also for anyone keeping track, this is a combination of the classic Rites of Marriage and a few modernizations that have been allowed in the last 50 years. There are a few things that wouldn't happen at all in a real Catholic wedding. But how often do real Catholic weddings involve Thieves and Assassins Guilds? I tried to lay the groundwork for the deviations in the previous chapter though, so review there if necessary. The rest are specifically called out in this chapter.

**Chapter 2**

"Y' nervous, _mon frère_?" Henri whispered as Remy straightened his spaulder cape.

The rich purple crepe back satin signified his place of rank within the Thieves Guild. Only his shoulders were draped with the fabric over his long black mandarin tuxedo jacket. Jean-Luc had helped him adjust it earlier, but Remy couldn't stop fidgeting now that he was actually at the altar and waiting for his bride to arrive. Nothing was keeping his mind busy or focused on anything other than the vows he was about to exchange. Even the archbishop preparing behind him didn't instill the typical proprieties.

"Says de _homme_ who was a wreck 'til de archbishop pronounced y' and Mercy_ M. et Mme _LeBeau." Remy absently reminded his brother of his wedding two years previous.

No matter what anyone said, including Mercy herself, Henri was sure she would get cold feet. Back then, Remy had laughed his ass off at his older brother. He swore he'd be the very definition of cool when it came time to marry Belle. Now it was Henri who had the last laugh as he chuckled at his brother's expense.

"_Ouais, _because yo' so much calmer, _fr__é__rot_." Henri teased.

"_Suffisamment_, _garçons!_" Jean-Luc interrupted from his seat in the first pew. "De procession is about t' begin."

Sure enough, the organist played the soft opening notes of Pachelbel's Canon in D Major. The wedding was extremely private, consisting of only the highest ranking thieves and assassins. On cue, the guests stood as the nave doors opened to reveal Marius and Julien escorting the blushing bride. Actually, Remy couldn't see Bella Donna's reaction at all. Her blusher veil was several layers thick and covered her head and face completely.

As the procession grew nearer, he could barely make out the paleness of her bangs. Though the band of fresh flowers crowning her head blocked the rest of her hair from his view, the long tresses were tightly pulled back in a classic chignon. And the light reflecting off her glassy eyes masked their bright color.

There'd been talk for the last two weeks that Monique L'Huillier had rushed an order for the custom creation. The ivory re-embroidered and Chantilly lace gown hid Belle's figure with its natural waist bodice that flowed into a hand appliqued A-line skirt. The bateau neckline gracefully cascaded down the lengths of her arms, ending at her wrists. She carried a large, round bouquet of ivory colored amelia roses. What Remy could see of her hands were encased in short, unadorned matte satin gloves. Her cathedral length tulle veil boasted the same lace appliques as the gown.

Remy couldn't tear his eyes away from her. She was a vision, gorgeous in the couturier ensemble but respectfully covered for nuptial high mass. From the corner of his eye, he barely registered Julien's shit-eating grin. But whatever Belle's brother thought didn't matter now. Remy was about to marry his true love and that was all that mattered.

As the trio finally made it to the altar, Marius helped his daughter take her place next to her soon-to-be husband as she handed off her bouquet. Together, the bride and groom turned toward the archbishop as he led the assembly in the sign of the cross.

"_In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti_. Amen." He intoned as he moved his hands through the sacred gesture.

"Friends, we are gathered here t'day t' witness de marriage between this Son of LeBeau, Prince of de Thieves Guild and this Daughter of Boudreaux, Princess of de Assassins Guild." The archbishop began the greeting.

The Thieves had yielded to the Assassins regarding how the couple would be named throughout the ceremony. It seemed more formal and momentous to use the clan names and ranks instead of their given names. After all, it wasn't just two people uniting, but two Guilds as well.

"Peace be wit' y'." He prompted the assembly.

"And also wit' y'." They responded.

After the singing of Gloria, the archbishop invited the assembly to pray. One particular phrase hit home for Remy: "these yo' servants, now t' be joined by de Sacrament of Matrimony, may grow in de faith they profess and enrich yo' Church wit' faithful offspring."

This marriage wasn't one simply of love, but duty and responsibility to each Guild. Their union and heirs would bring peace. It was a heavy burden placed upon his shoulders and until that moment, it hadn't seemed real. He was so caught up in these thoughts that he almost missed the archbishop's call to be seated for the liturgy. On ceremony, he kneeled at the altar next to his bride.

The lengthy mass consisted of five readings proclaimed by their friends and family: the Old Testament, a Responsorial Psalm, the New Testament, an Alleluia verse, and the Gospel. Remy hadn't really been involved in selecting any of the passages, preferring to let Bella Donna choose the details. But some of the selections were curious and set him on edge.

Julien was first with the Old Testament reading. He fought to keep a straight face as he told the story of Isaac taking Rebekah for his wife. It almost worked until he got to the end where Rebekah first sees Isaac.

"Then she took her _veil_ and hid her _face._ De servant told Isaac de whole story, and Isaac took Rebekah int' his tent and made her his _wife_." Nothing kept the sneer of triumph from Julien's lips as he stared at Remy.

He struggled to remain impassive to his soon to be brother-in-law's poking. It would do no good to start a fight with Belle's brother. Instead he tried to focus on Mercy as she began the Responsorial Psalm.

Even though Remy had left the choices up to Bella Donna, Mercy and Tante Mattie weren't about to let her fill all the lectors with her side of the family. Since Mercy had a beautiful singing voice, she was an obvious choice to lead the assembly for the sung verses.

But when Tante Mattie rose to give the New Testament passage, Remy felt like he was that lost little boy who used to sneak into her kitchen to cause mischief. Her tone had been pleasant until she too neared the end of the verses.

"Love's always _patient_ and _kind_;" She directly admonished him, "it ain't ever jealous; love ain't boastful or conceited; it ain't ever _rude_ or _selfish_; it don't take offense, and it ain't _resentful_. Love don't take pleasure in other people's failin's but delights in de truth; it's always ready t' _excuse_, t' _trust_, t' _hope_, and t' _endure whatever comes_."

Tante paused to give him a hard look, as if she was reaching into his soul to burn upon his heart and mind the last phrase: "Love don't come t' an end. And that's de Word of de Lord."

"Thanks be t' God." Remy answered with the assembly.

Following the flow of the liturgy, he rose from his kneeling position and helped his bride to stand through the Alleluia, which was sung by the choir. But his mind was stuck on Tante Mattie's reading instead of the lyrical verses.

As with any of her blisterings, Remy respectfully hung his head as he accepted the lesson she was trying to teach him though he didn't understand why she'd chosen now. Tante had always had a sixth sense about things. Sometimes she knew exactly what would happen and other times she just had a feeling. For her to proclaim her reading in such a way meant she'd had one of those feelings.

As the last note echoed through the buttressed ceiling, Archbishop D'Arceneaux began the proclamation of the Gospel:

"A readin' from de holy gospel accordin' t' Matthew: Some Pharisees approached Jesus and t' test Him they said, 'Is it against de Law for a Man t' divorce his wife on any pretext whatever?' He answered, 'Have y' not read that de Creator from de beginning made them male and female and that He said, this is why a man must leave father and mother, and cling t' his wife, and de two become one body? They are no longer two, therefore, but one body. So then, what God has united, no human bein' may divide.' De gospel of de Lord."

The assembly answered, "Praise t' y', Lord Jesus Christ," before they sat.

For the next half hour, Remy struggled not to fidget through the archbishop's homily. As a child, he'd never been able to sit still through high mass and that hadn't changed now that he was grown. He tried to focus on what Archbishop D'Arceneaux was saying: the mysteries of marriage, the dignity of wedded love, the grace of the sacrament, and the responsibilities of married people. But the only thing that kept his restlessness under control was the fact that he was in front of the entire assembly instead of just in one of the pews.

As the sermon came to a close, the time had finally come for them to be wed. The archbishop addressed the assembly to stand as he began the Statement of Intentions.

"Son of LeBeau, Prince of de Thieves Guild and Daughter of Boudreaux, Princess of de Assassins Guild, have y' come here freely and wit'out reservation t' give yo'selves t' each other in marriage?"

"Yes." Remy answered, followed by his bride's quiet, "Yes."

"Will y' love and honor each other as man and wife for de rest of yo' lives?"

Again, the couple individually said, "Yes."

"Will y' accept children lovin'ly from God and bring 'em up accordin' t' de law of Christ and his Church?"

"Yes." They separately promised.

"Since it is yo' intention t' enter int' marriage, join yo' right hands and declare yo' consent before God and his Church." The archbishop instructed.

Remy turned toward his bride, accepting the hand she hesitantly offered. Her uncertainty left him searching her face for the source of the doubt, but the multi-layered veil muddled her features too much to give anything away. He took comfort in the fact that the large yellow diamond was on the ring finger of her right hand.

Once their hands were clasped together, the archbishop turned to Remy.

"Son of LeBeau, Prince of de Thieves Guild, do y' take this Daughter of Boudreaux, Princess of de Assassins Guild t' be yo' wife? Do y' promise t' be true t' her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, t' love her and honor her all de days of yo' life?" He asked.

"I do." Remy vowed.

Addressing the bride, Archbishop D'Arceneaux repeated the consent: "Daughter of Boudreaux, Princess of de Assassins Guild, do y' take this Son of LeBeau, Prince of de Thieves Guild t' be yo' husband? Do y' promise t' be true t' him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, t' love him and honor him all de days of yo' life?"

On the softest of whispers, she answered, "Ah do."

The thicker accent gave Remy pause. He'd never heard Bella Donna be so meek and quiet before, not to mention ever noticing a change in the way she sounded. But then again, she'd never gotten married before. Mercy had been a nervous wreck when she and Henri married. She hadn't been one of those "bridezillas", but some of the things she did scared even Remy. Maybe Belle was no different.

"Y' have declared yo' consent before de Church. May de Lord in his goodness strengthen yo' consent and fill y' both wit' his blessin's." The archbishop spoke as he made the sign of the cross over the couple. "What God has joined, men must not divide."

Those gathered answered in kind, "Amen."

Someone behind them prompted the ring bearer, one of Bella Donna's youngest cousins, to come forward with the rings. Blessing the platinum bands, the archbishop made the sign of the cross as he said: "May de Lord bless these rings which y' give t' each other as de sign of yo' love and fidelity."

Again, the assembly added an "Amen."

Once the blessing was complete, Henri handed his brother the smaller, simple band. Remy slid the ring onto his bride's glove covered finger.

"Daughter of Boudreaux, Princess of de Assassins Guild, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity." Remy recited.

When it was time for her to repeat the exchange, Julien handed her the larger, intricately scrolled ring. His face beamed a thousand watt smile.

Pushing it down Remy's finger, she answered in a mumble that he could barely hear: "Son of LeBeau, Prince of the Thieves Guild, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity."

"Dear friends, we have witnessed de exchange of promises by this Son of Lebeau, Prince of de Thieves Guild and this Daughter of Boudreaux, Princess of de Assassins Guild. Let us ask de Lord to strengthen their love for each other." The archbishop called for the Prayer of the Faithful.

Once the general intercessions were complete, the assembly was allowed to sit while the bride and groom knelt again. Mass continued with the liturgy of the Eucharist followed by the nuptial blessing and communion.

Finally, Archbishop D'Arceneaux led the assembly to stand for the beginnings of the solemn blessing: "May almighty God, wit' his Word of blessin', unite yo' hearts in de never endin' bond of pure love."

The blessing continued but after an hour and a half, the ceremony was coming to a close. And it was none too soon for Remy. He'd managed to outwardly appear at peace when inwardly all he wanted to do was get to the reception so he could kiss his wife. As the last "Amen" rang through the church, the moment he'd been most anticipating arrived.

"My dear friends, it is my pleasure t' introduce y' t' _M. et Mme_ LeBeau." The archbishop presented the couple.

The bride and groom turned to face the assembly. They'd decided Remy wouldn't lift her veil until the recessional.

With a final parting, the archbishop dismissed those gathered: "Go in peace t' love and serve de Lord and each other."

"Thanks be t' God." The assembly answered, finally giving Remy the opportunity to see his new wife's beautiful face.

Gently grasping the delicate appliqued tulle, he lifted the layers up over her head. A collective gasp filled the cathedral as murmurs broke out amongst the guests. Remy staggered back into the altar, shell-shocked by the vision before him. Instead of Bella Donna's honey blond locks and sea blue eyes, he was confronted with the jade green orbs, snow white bangs, and auburn hair of a stranger.

"_Sapristi! Qui êtes-vous_?" Remy demanded, but the woman remained silent.

Julien doubled over and held his stomach as he uncontrollably laughed. Between gasps, he answered, "She's yo' wife, _chien_!"

**(X)**

_M. et Mme _- Monsieur and Madame

_Sapristi!_ - For God's sake!

_Qui êtes-vous_? - Who are you?

_chien_ - dog (slur)


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: **I think this is the last of the Catholic references and this time it's all canonical law. It got a little trickier than I anticipated, but I tried to explain with context. Let me know if anything's unclear and I'll give the short and sweet version.

Emil's father is not named (as far as I can find), so Gustave is my own creation. And yes there is a break with comic canon in this chapter, but have patience. There's a reason for everything that's going on so far, including Rogue's lack of emotional response.

**Side Note: **I have an outline in my head, but I'm posting as I complete a chapter (unlike An Hour After Midnight which is several chapters out and well documented). So updates will probably be irregular in a couple more chapters. This is my muse's new favorite toy though, so hopefully the momentum will keep up.

**Thanks**: to everyone who's reviewed! This last chapter was a lot of fun to see your responses and guesses on where this is going. My only answer is that you'll just have to wait and see. ;)

**Chapter 3**

Remy's rage boiled over. He'd never been so furious in his life as to _want_ to kill someone. Suddenly he understood why the assassins took pleasure in what they did. They'd planned this treachery from the beginning and Julien _knew _what was going to happen. His snide remarks and easy acceptance of the marriage made perfect sense now. The only thing that could appease Remy was to see him beat to a bloody pulp, dying on his knees.

Without thinking, Remy clenched his hands into fists as he reared back to deliver the first blow. But his forward momentum was abruptly stopped, the force behind his punch blocked before it could gain any strength. Anger turned his vision red as Remy looked for who was holding him back. Quick as lightning, Jean-Luc had risen from his place in the first pew to stop his son from starting an all-out Guild war.

With an imperceptible shake of his head, he quietly said, "He's not worth it_, fils_."

Julien had quickly sobered when Remy raised his fist. Oblivious to the verbal exchange between father and son, he taunted: "Go 'head, _voleurs écume_. Gimme de excuse. I've been waitin' t' kill y' since y' first laid eyes on _ma sœur._"

"That's quite enough, Julien." Marius interjected. "There'll be no violence t'day. After all, it is a joyous occasion, _non_? This marriage has brought peace t' de Guilds. And Remy is now yo' _beau-frère_. Is this how we treat _famille_?"

"Where's Belle." Remy demanded through clenched teeth.

Marius turned a hard, criticizing gaze on his new son-in-law. "That is of no consequence now, though I will give y' de peace of mind that she's safe."

"_Ouais_, too bad in all de time y' were fuckin' her, y' didn't teach her how t' pick a lock." Julien roared in laughter at his own joke.

"_S'il vous plaît_, have some respect! This is de Lord's house." The archbishop interrupted.

Shame filled Remy for behaving so poorly in church. His fury faded a little as he regained some composure. Jean-Luc squeezed his shoulder, giving him faith that this would shortly be resolved.

"_Bien sûr_." Jean-Luc conceded. "May we seek yo' counsel in private, Yo' Excellency?"

Archbishop D'Arceneaux assessed the situation. Thieves and assassins on both sides of the cathedral listened with baited breath, poised to take action on what was said or done. Allowing those congregated to hear any decision could very well spill blood on holy ground.

"_Oui_. Let us adjourn t' de chapterhouse." He agreed with the Thieves Guildmaster before he addressed the assembly.

"_Mesdames et Messieurs_, de families of de wedded couple have asked that y' peaceably proceed t' de reception at Le Pavillon's Versailles Ballroom, _s'il vous plaît_." The archbishop requested.

The gathered thieves and assassins waited a moment longer before reluctantly gathering their things. It was obvious there would be no further scene in the cathedral. As the group scattered, Jean-Luc caught the attention of his brothers-in-law, Belize Marceaux and Gustave Lapin.

"Make sure de peace is kept 'til y' hear from me." He quietly instructed.

Gustave nodded in affirmation. "I'll get Emil."

Jean-Luc held up a hand in disagreement. "_Non, _leave Emil here. He's good at diffusin' tense situations. We may need him on de ride over t' Le Pavillon."

"We'll use Etienne and Theoren." Belize said to Gustave.

Even though Etienne was the eldest of Belize's sons, he had barely passed his Tithing. If it hadn't been for Remy's quick thinking, the boy would have drowned during his initiation rite. Etienne had never been the same after that, choosing to play it safe rather than do anything too dangerous. Though he'd grown into a gentle young man, his amiable temperament made him a good peacekeeper and negotiator for the thieves.

"_Bon_._ Merci_." Jean-Luc clapped Belize on the back before returning his attention to the archbishop who was already heading toward the chapterhouse.

Nearby, Marius instructed his own chosen group to watch the assassins. He also accepted a briefcase from his Besider, Gris Gris, but Jean-Luc didn't wait for them to finish the exchange. Nodding for his two sons to follow, the three went after the archbishop. The small group only had to wait a few minutes before Marius, Julien, and Remy's wife joined them.

Even though Julien was Marius' intended heir and had been present for the marriage arrangment, this meeting would have to be resolved between the two Guild leaders. He smartly hovered in the back with Henri to observe the inevitable fireworks.

As soon as the meeting room's doors were shut, Jean-Luc kneeled on his left knee to pay respects to the archbishop by kissing his ring.

Rising, he started his objections. "Yo' Excellency, _s'il vous plaît_, this farce is not de terms we Thieves agreed upon. We seek a Declaration of Nullity."

"Oh, but it is, _mon ami_." Marius countered. "At no point did we Assassins say de bride would be Bella Donna."

Remy's earlier rage returned when he saw Marius' conniving, wicked smirk. He took two steps toward his new father-in-law before Henri grabbed him around the chest and held him back.

"Y' gave me permission t' propose t' Bella Donna!" Remy exclaimed before turning to the archbishop. "Yo' Excellency, she and I completed our pre-cana wit'Monsignor Renault. He has all de proof of our marriage eligibility and signed our certificate."

Renault was the presiding curate priest at Sacred Heart of St. Cecilia and had rushed t' help them complete their marriage counseling in the shortened timeframe. The entire process normally took months, but Marius had arranged to have things expedited.

"I'm afraid Monsignor Renault is not immediately available t' provide witness. He received Holy Orders for a special ministry in a remote part of South Africa and left earlier in de week." Archbishop D'Arceneaux apologized.

"That is quite alright, Yo' Excellency." Marius announced as he opened the briefcase he'd received from Gris Gris. "We have all de original documents here: prenuptial investigation; birth, adoption, baptismal, confirmation, and pre-cana certificates; and de wedding license applied for wit' de great state of Louisiana."

Marius kneeled in respect and kissed the archbishop's ring before handing over the documents. Papers in hand, Archbishop D'Arceneaux laid them out on the conference table before taking a seat. Placing them in chronological order, he compared signatures, names, dates, anything that seemed pertinent or fraudulent.

"Who is Anna Marie Boudreaux?" He asked.

"Ah am." It was the first time the bride's voice rang loud and clear. Everyone's eyes fell on her. "But Ah'd prefer it if ya called me Rogue."

"_Menteur!"_ Jean-Luc shouted. "Marius Boudreaux has only two children: Julien and Bella Donna."

The archbishop's commanding voice calmly chastised: "And yet I have adoption records here for a third: a younger daughter born twenty-one years ago and adopted by Marius at de age of two." He held up the adoption records for Jean-Luc's inspection.

Seeing truth in the statement, he had no ground to object other than: "If these documents are not forgeries, which I greatly question, then why are we just now learnin' of this adoption?"

"_Ma fille_ has…_special _talents. Her trainin' has been quite intensive and very private over de last nineteen years." Marius offered.

"Come here, my child." The archbishop kindly waved her over. When she arrived by his side, he took her gloved hands in his and asked: "Tell me, is Marius Boudreaux yo' father?"

"For as long as Ah can remember, he is the only father Ah've known." Rogue confirmed.

"And did y' complete pre-cana wit' Remy LeBeau as this document certifies?" He questioned, releasing her hands so he could indicate the appropriate paperwork.

"No." She answered.

"_Vous remercie!_" Remy visibly relaxed at her confession.

"No," Rogue reiterated in a louder voice, "Ah did not complete pre-cana _with_ him. Ah was workin' on Guild business and couldn't be there in person. _Père_ arranged with Monsignor Renault for me ta complete my portions via phone and email."

Remy threw his hands in the air as he quietly swore under his breath. He realized before anyone else that his objection would be her word against his. The assassins had manipulated the situation in their favor.

"I see." Archbishop D'Arceneaux paused, deep in thought. After a moment, he requested: "_S'il vous plait, _I would like t' interview de bride and groom alone _un instant_."

The archbishop arranged two chairs side by side in front of the one he was using. Remy rolled his eyes and bit his tongue, but did as he was instructed. He flopped down in the chair. His posture slumped as he watched Rogue struggle to get her cathedral length train and veil under control. Julien folded his arms and smirked as he watched her vain efforts while Marius and Jean-Luc stared each other down.

Seeing that his brother wasn't going to do a thing to help his bride, Henri stepped forward to gently grab a handful of the lace and tulle.

"_Permettez-moi_." He offered as he took her hand.

His kindness cracked her ever present stoicism. For as momentous as this occasion and following proceedings, she'd been inscrutably aloof. And yet Henri's simple act brought a momentary flash of surprise, confusion, and something else he couldn't quite identify. She hesitated only a moment before accepting his help.

"Thanks." Rogue answered as she settled into the chair.

To her alone, he smiled and said, "Think nothin' of it."

As he moved to resume his place of observation, he smacked Remy upside the head.

"_Mule impoli_." He chastised as Remy indignantly cried, "Hey!"

Rather than reminding both brothers of their location, the archbishop began his interview. "Rogue, did y' freely and unconditionally give yo' consent t' marry Remy t'day?"

"Yes." She answered.

"And did anyone coerce y' or place conditions on givin' yo' consent?" The archbishop continued.

Again, her answer was simple. "No."

Turning his attention to the groom, Archbishop D'Arceneaux asked: "Remy, did y' freely and unconditionally give yo' consent t' marry this _femme_ t'day?"

"_Oui._" He answered on a sulk before immediately adding: "But I thought she was Belle!"

"_Patience,_ _mon garçon_." The archbishop raised his hand in a shushing gesture to retain the peace. "Were y' coerced or conditions placed on y' t' give yo' consent?"

Folding his arms over his chest and looking away, Remy answered, "_Non._"

"Did y' consent t' fidelity, indissolubility, and de openness t' children?" Archbishop D'Arceneaux prompted.

"Yes." They individually answered.

An awkward silence descended upon the room as the archbishop critically appraised the couple. He folded his hands as if in prayer, the forefingers remaining up so he could press them to his lips as he thought. After a few moments, he shook himself out of a daze and picked up a few of the papers.

Shuffling through the sheets, he absentmindedly remarked: "From yo' records, we know y' both are of age and confirmed in de Catholic faith. And y' aren't related by adoption, affinity, or public propriety. Nor have y' been previously married, received sacred orders, or vowed chastity. Aside from a physical examination, I have doubts that y' are blood related or mentally ill. Or that _you_, Remy, are impotent."

The archbishop smiled at the younger man's pinked cheeks. Despite Remy's experience with the ladies, he did _not_ want to discuss his sexual prowess in church or with any of its officials.

Trying to change the focus, he sullenly asked, "So what does all that mean?"

Archbishop D'Arceneaux took care as he gave his answer. "It means I have no reason _not_ t' sign this marriage license."

"_Quoi!?"_ Jean-Luc and Remy simultaneously shouted.

"How can this be?" Jean-Luc argued as he stepped toward the seated parties. "At de very least, de assassins have seriously deceived us at de time of de weddin'!"

"This is true." The archbishop conceded. "However I see no such deception on behalf of de bride. I must recognize this as a putative marriage."

Everyone in the room knew what his ruling meant. The marriage was considered valid because Rogue entered in good faith even though Jean-Luc correctly cited the impediment of deception. Without further delay, the archbishop signed the marriage license and slipped it into his vestments to be filed with the Orleans Parish Clerk of the Court.

"So _mon garçon_ is expected t' honor this…this _hoax_?" Jean-Luc cried in indignation.

Archbishop D'Arceneaux placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "_M. _LeBeau, I am not de Ecclesiastical Tribunal. I cannot simply provide a Decree of Nullity after a few questions. De only thing wit'in my power t' do t'day is determine if de marriage is valid, which I have."

Remy jumped up from his slouched position. "Then what do I have t' do t' make this go away so I can marry Belle?"

Evaluating the younger man's impiety, the archbishop begrudgingly provided the requested information. "If an annulment is truly what de thieves desire, then y' must first obtain a divorce from de state before petitionin' de diocesan tribunal. Between de civil and ecclesiastical courts, that will take 'bout two years."

"Two _years_!" Remy said, shocked.

After watching the interview in silence, Marius finally chimed in. "Yo' Excellency, there is a required six month separation period t' file for divorce. If de bride and groom do not live t'gether at de LeBeau Manor, one of de terms of de peace agreement will be violated."

Archbishop D'Arceneaux leveled a stern look on the Assassin Patriarch. "_M. _Boudreaux, do not think that y' are absolved of yo' deceit simply because I have ruled in yo' favor. Y' have offended God in His house and proven t' me through yo' behavior that y' are not willfully contrite over yo' sins. When y' find de resolution t' sin no more and de will t' receive de Sacrament, I will give y' penance."

"_Bien sûr, _Yo' Excellency." Marius said, showing the expected level remorse even though he inwardly celebrated.

Appeased by Marius' display, the archbishop returned his attention to Remy. "If de peace terms included that y' live t'gether, _M. _Boudreaux is correct. Though y' must refrain from conjugation due t' de putatitve state of de marriage, especially if y' decide t' seek a Declaration of Nullity."

"That won't be a problem." Remy mumbled under his breath as he looked away.

The archbishop placed a hand on his forearm to garner Remy's full attention. "I suggest thinkin' hard on what a separation, divorce, and annulment will mean t' de members of de new Unified Guild, _mon garçon_."

His words were a reminder of what this marriage really meant. All along, Remy thought he understood what everyone had been trying to tell him, but he'd brushed them off like a buzzing fly. Before, it hadn't mattered if his marriage was bringing peace. His first thought was that Bella Donna was going to be his wife. The peace was secondary.

It was only now, when Belle was no longer part of that picture, did Remy truly realize peace between the Guilds always came first. His love life was inconsequential to that. No, his love life was nonexistent. With his marriage vows, he was trapped by fidelity to a woman he did not know much less love.

Breaking those vows would break the peace. Even if he could somehow devise a way out of the marriage, the thieves and assassins would be at war again. There would be no second wedding with Belle as his bride. They would be worse than sworn enemies. Obligation to their respective Guilds alone would ensure there would be no philandering behind everyone's backs this time. And that was the _best _scenario. Worst case was Bella Donna being required to take a contract on Remy's life. Not to mention he would be risking the lives of his family and friends in what would be the bloodiest Guild war known during the New Kingdom. There was only one decision that he could make.

"I withdraw my objections and will honor this union." Remy carefully phrased. There was a wedding, but it simply unified two people and two Guilds into one.

"That is a wise choice." The archbishop amiably agreed. "I will assemble de _Sanatio in Radice_documents tomorrow. I believe there is an urgent need _not_ to annul de marriage just t' seek convalidation of yo' consent, Remy."

Archbishop D'Arceneaux made a good point. Because he'd already ruled it a putative marriage, the normal protocol stated that only Remy needed to renew his consent. However since the impediment had been revealed with the bride's identity at the end of mass, both he and Rogue would need to renew their consent. The renewal could only be achieved through a public convalidation ceremony, but it required both of them to be made aware of the nullity of the marriage. An annulment, even if temporary and needed only due to protocol, would violate the peace treaty. That meant _sanatio in radice_ was the only available option.

The special dispensation would revalidate the marriage because Remy had given his consent during the nuptial mass, even though it was later deemed ineffective due to the assassins' deception. By stating he no longer objected to giving his consent, the impediment invalidating the marriage was removed and no renewal of consent was required. And because all of this had happened behind the closed doors of the chapterhouse, the members of the Unified Guild would never know the marriage hadn't been considered true for a short period of time.

The document also meant any future annulment and divorce would be extremely difficult to obtain from the diocesan and civil courts.

"If there is nothin' else, we have guests waitin' at Le Pavillon for our arrival." Marius reminded everyone.

"No, I think all matters have been settled here." Archbishop D'Arceneaux confirmed.

With the matter resolved, each person repeated Jean-Luc's and Marius's earlier reverential gestures before leaving the archbishop's presence. Emil was waiting for the group outside the chapterhouse and joined the LeBeaus as they left the cathedral. He caught up with Henri first since Remy had his hands full helping his new wife with her gown.

"What happened? Is everythin' okay? Who _is_ she?" His rapid fire questions left no room for answers.

Because of the need for the _sanatio in radice_, Henri ignored the first. "Everythin' is fine. De peace between de Guilds is intact. She is Marius' adopted daughter, Rogue."

A limo was waiting at the curb for the bride and groom. Another two for each of the families were ready to pull up as soon as the first left. Before Emil could ask another question, Jean-Luc gave him new instructions.

"Ride wit' Remy and Rogue t' de reception. Make sure they don't kill each other on de way." His statement was meant both figuratively from Remy's viewpoint and literally from Rogue's presumed skills.

"_Oui, _Guildmaster." Emil recognized the orders came from his Guildmaster, not his uncle.

He climbed into the limo first so he could help Rogue into the stretch SUV. Outside, Jean-Luc held Remy back.

"I'm very proud of y', _fils_. Yo' decision was difficult, but it showed great maturity and selflessness. It will serve y' well as Patriarch of de Unified Guild." Remy's father pulled him into a hug.

Bitterness rose in Remy's throat like bile. Not only did he have a wife he didn't want thrust upon him, but he would soon have to assume an equally unwanted leadership.

As he broke out of his father's embrace and climbed into the limo, he smarted back: "_Ouais_, at de cost of bein' miserable de rest of my life wit'out Belle."

With that spoiled response, Remy completely destroyed any esteem Jean-Luc held for him.

**(X)**

_voleurs écume _– thieving scum

_Menteur! _– Liar!

_Vous remercie! _– Thank you! (in the emphasized sense)

_Permettez-moi_ – allow me

_Mule impoli_ – impolite mule

_Quoi!?_ – What!?

_Sanatio in radice_ – (Latin) healing in the root


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N**: Pics of Le Pavillon are up. I didn't really describe it in this chapter because the actual opulence of the room was minor compared to all the ground I wanted to cover.

**Thanks**: to everyone – you continue to blow me away with your reviews/follows/favorites!

**Chapter 4**

Emil shifted on the corner of one of the limo's loveseat benches to see the unhappy couple behind him. From his perspective, Rogue sat staring out the window on his right and Remy sulked as far on his left as the limo would allow. The ride had been uncomfortably silent so far and no one bothered to fill him in on what happened.

Whatever decision had been made, he knew his cousin was livid. Once the door had closed, Remy grabbed the bottle of bourbon Marius left as a wedding present. They'd only been in the limo for about five minutes, but he'd already put a good dent in it. Emil had been out drinking with Remy before and if those times were any indication, he'd be playing babysitter all through the reception to keep his cousin from doing or saying anything that would embarrass the Guild.

Switching gears, Emil glanced over at Rogue. The cousin he'd gained by marriage was a stunning woman: translucent skin, bright green eyes, full peachy lips, shiny auburn hair with a unique streak of white. He briefly wondered if that was supposed to be some kind of fashion statement or something. It didn't really matter though. The point was, other than the melancholy that marred her pretty face, she was gorgeous.

Emil had a feeling she was very good at hiding both her emotions and her personality, but he was a master thief and _trained_ to see through facades. All the signs were there. The slight downturn of her mouth; the way her arms listlessly laid in her lap; the distance in her eyes as she watched the passing scenery. Emil wondered if Remy even bothered to pull his head out of his ass long enough to notice that his bride was just as miserable as he was.

"_Allô_. I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Remy's _cousin_, Emil Lapin." He held his hand out to shake hers.

As if fighting free from a deep sleep, Rogue turned to look at the first person that had spoken to her since the interview with the archbishop. She blinked a few times as she stared at his bright smile and offered hand. Her frown became more pronounced before her eyebrows knitted together, as if she didn't understand why he would care to introduce himself.

Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his as she timidly slid her hand into his. "Rogue."

"_Le plaisir est pour moi_." His smile grew as he gently squeezed her hand and gave her a little wink of encouragement.

Remy scoffed at the gesture before taking another swig of liquor. Emil just ignored his cousin's sullen rudeness. Rogue, however, withdrew as she pulled her hand from his and turned back toward the window.

There was something not quite right about her. Emil wondered if someone had hurt her. He'd seen abuse before and knew what it looked like. Hell, when _Nonc_ Jean-Luc adopted Remy, the littlest bang would send him squirreling away under the stairs with dinner rolls stuffed in his pockets. Rogue was acting like she'd grown up the same way. It was as if she'd been cut off from humanity and didn't even recognize common kindness. Emil decided to take it upon himself to do what he did best: make her laugh.

"Y' know, I'd frown too if I was married t' this joker." He said in all seriousness, jerking his head toward his drunken cousin.

Rogue gave him no indication that she was even listening. Remy on the other hand rolled his eyes and took another drink.

Continuing on, Emil said: "His room's a pig sty. He smokes, he gambles, he drinks." At that, he gave Remy a pointed look, silently telling him to lay off the booze. "His feet smell, he never washes his hair, he rarely bathes."

The last three were complete lies, but Remy took the bait.

"_Je t'emmerde!_" He objected as tried to kick Emil's shin.

Easily dodging the blow, Emil added, "He swears _and _he's vulgar."

The comment only served to further aggravate his cousin. Remy continued lashing out, but Emil was just as well trained in blocking the attack. A little off balance from the liquor, Remy didn't realize he was on the edge of the seat until his tuxedo slacks slipped on the smooth leather. Indecorously, he fell flat on his ass. Bourbon sloshed onto his lap, making it look like he'd pissed himself.

"_Connard!_" Remy swore, putting down the bottle to grab a napkin.

Emil fought to keep a straight face. "_Non_, pretty sure that describes _you_, cuz."

He burst into hysterics when Remy charged the napkin and chucked it at his head. It was easy to dodge, but the small explosive hit the liquor bottle instead. With a small pop, the remaining alcohol sprayed them both. Emil laughed even harder as Remy cursed under his breath. The cousins then fought over the napkins to try to sop up as much of the alcohol as possible. Even with the spots dry, they would still smell like they'd been on a three day bender by the time they got to the reception.

Emil's chuckles died down to a wide grin as he peeked at Rogue. She was hiding a smile behind a gloved hand, pretending to ignore their antics in favor of looking out the window. Maybe he didn't make her laugh like he'd intended, but that little bit of joy was a start. So long as his puerile cousin didn't screw things up, Emil would have plenty of time to crack that hard exterior.

Speaking of the selfish, immature idiot, Remy charged the wet napkins to dispose of them before resuming his seat and sulky disposition. Emil only sighed as the limo slowed to a stop. As soon as he could, Remy popped open the door and stormed off. The jovial mood was suddenly somber again.

At least they were finally at Le Pavillon, which meant that someone else would get to babysit. Emil had had enough of his cousin's sullenness. Maybe things didn't work out the way Remy had planned, but he still ended up married to one _belle femme_. A lot of men in the Guild would be jealous of him, especially if he continued to ignore her for his own selfishness.

As Emil stayed behind to help Rogue out, he held her back long enough to ask, "Save a dance for me, _bonne cousine_?"

The ghost of the earlier smile flitted across Rogue's face. "Um, okay."

**(X)-(X)-(X)**

"_Un," _Remy licked the salt off his hand, "_deux,"_ took the shot of tequila, "_trois!"_ and bit into the lime wedge as he slammed the shot glass on the counter. A couple of the other wedding guests repeated the action with him, laughing at the meaningless giddiness that comes from indulging in one too many drinks.

With some help from his cousins and brother, Remy had long ago polished off the open bar's bourbon stores. Unlike his cousins and brother, he hadn't quit after a few. And why should he? His life was in ruins, any plans he had for himself were blown to hell, _and_ he was tied until death do they part to a woman he could give two shits about. Yep, in his mind that all added up to getting as shitfaced as possible.

Jean-Luc on the other hand had other plans in store for his inebriated son.

It was bad enough that both Emil and Remy had arrived at the reception reeking of alcohol. Granted, Jean-Luc looked the other way after his nephew explained what had happened in the limo. But Remy's behavior only degraded after that. He'd remained completely silent through the formal dinner, ignoring his new wife as if she wasn't even there. Then he'd abandoned her at the bridal party's table while he indulged in juvenile drinking games.

Glancing at the pitiful sight of the bride sipping on champagne by herself, it wasn't hard for Jean-Luc to figure out the assassins viewed her as an outsider. Even though Marius professed she'd been a part of their lives for the last nineteen years, the entire Guild avoided her like the plague.

Not that the thieves were much better. The appearance of an unknown woman who would soon jointly preside over the Unified Guild was a real cause for concern. The bright plans for the future suddenly grew gloomy with Marius' betrayal. No one knew Rogue. Would she be fair and just or would she be furthering some hidden assassin agenda.

Between the the abandoned bride and the drunken groom, Jean-Luc had no choice but to intercede if Remy had any hope to earn the respect from the people he was destined to lead.

As the Thieves Guildmaster approached, the wedding guests at the bar suddenly found other things t odo. Jean-Luc stepped up behind his son, giving him a sharp tap on the shoulder.

Remy barely gave him a wayward glance. "_Père._" He acknowledged as he loaded up for another shot.

Jean-Luc batted away the glass, spilling the tequila on the bar top. "Y've had quite enough, _fils_."

"_Non_,_" _Remy shot daggers toward Rogue who was still sitting by herself, "I haven't had enough."

"Now y' listen here, _couillon_." Jean-Luc's expression hardened. "Look around y'. Yo' a joke t' everyone in this room. Y' think they're havin' a good time watchin' y' bring de Guild down wit' y'?"

Though Remy's gaze never left his father's face, he did observe the people in the reception hall for the first time since arriving. Other than the few that had been taking shots with him, most were still seated at their assigned dinner tables or milling about in small groups at the edges of the room. Everyone's eyes seemed to be on him, their hushed conversations whispered behind their hands. Even his family seemed to be passing judgment.

Jean-Luc may have proved his point, but Remy had learned a long time ago not to show any emotion that could be conceived as weakness. Even though he suddenly felt insecure and ashamed, he turned back to the bar with a nonchalant shrug.

HIs disregard only steeled Jean-Luc's face, hinting at the underlying chagrin as he quietly instructed his son. "Y' _will_ go over and ask yo' wife t' dance. When yo' finished wit' that, y' _will_ pose for pictures as if today's de happiest one of yo' miserable life. And when it comes time t' leave on yo' honeymoon, y' _will_ pretend that yo' in love wit' yo' wife."

When Remy was sure his father was finished, he picked up the bottle of tequila and said, "_Non. _I _won't_."

Fury reddened Jean-Luc's face as he tried to come up with some threat. There was actually little he could do to make Remy cooperate. As Guildmaster, he couldn't really grab his son, drag him out, and beat some sense into him like he wanted. There were too many witnesses for such an unseemly public display from the thieves leader. And he couldn't threaten to restrict Remy's contract opportunities. With the marriage, he would soon be Guildmaster himself and would be too important to take on any contracts. The terms of the peace treaty also stated that he would have to remain at the LeBeau Manor, which may as well have been house arrest. But a few little things did come to mind. Together, they'd add up to one big punishment.

"Y' will do as I say because if y' don't, I'll have Tante Mattie pour out all de liquor in de house. Then I'll let Mercy have a bonfire wit' all yo' cigarettes and playin' cards. I'll tell Henri t' sell yo' motorcycle at auction t' de lowest bidder. And I'll make yo' cousins give all yo' music, movies, and books away t' de Children's Charity of St. Louise. And as my final decree, I'll order that no contraband will be smuggled in t' y' on fear of excommunication from de Guild." Jean-Luc promised.

Remy put down the bottle and appraised his father. The two stared each other down as he decided whether or not Jean-Luc was bluffing. Remy's situation was going to be miserable enough. At least right now there could be an impromptu poker game or some time alone in the garage with his bike. But if Jean-Luc took all those things away, Remy would be stuck at home 24/7 with nothing to keep him sane and away from the wife he didn't want.

He locked his jaw before gritting out, "_Très bien_."

As Remy stormed away, Jean-Luc let his son's insolence pass for the time being. There would be plenty of opportunity later in a not so public location to deal with his attitude problems. Right now, he needed to inform the chamber players that they were finally ready for the first dance. With a few quick instructions, the opening sweet notes of a love song spilled into the room.

Remy noticed immediately that it wasn't what Belle had chosen. In fact, it wasn't even one of the options he'd suggested. He didn't know whether the change was his father's doing or if it was another part of Marius' plan, but the switch only served to infuriate Remy more. Remembering what Jean-Luc had promised, he tamped down on the growing irritation so he could approach his bride with one of his most charming smiles.

"May I have this dance?" Remy offered his hand to Rogue.

She was startled by his voice. After the incident at dinner, she hadn't expected him to pay her any attention. It took her a second to realize that he had actually spoken to her.

"Yeah." She answered in shock before remembering her etiquette and gracefully rising to accept his hand. "Ah mean, yes of course."

As they walked out to the dance floor, the musical director made a short announcement about the song and their dance. Remy held one of her gloved hands in his as she placed her free hand on his shoulder. Instead of smoothly wrapping an arm around her waist, he fought with the layers of tulle and lace that made up her blusher veil. The cathedral length piece had long ago been removed and the long train on her gown had been bustled up. But she'd kept a few comfort pieces to act as a temporary shield and provide some cover for the portion of her back exposed by the gown's v cut.

"I thought most _femmes_ ditched all this stuff at de reception." He asked in frustration, indicating her gloves and veil.

Rogue fought not to roll her eyes. "Ah'm not most _femmes_." She deadpanned instead.

After the way he acted, she felt no obligation to give him any further detail than that.

Realizing she wasn't going to elaborate further, he moved on to a different attack. "Why do y' sound like that?"

"Why do Ah sound like what?" Rogue countered.

"Like yo' not from around here. I thought y' said Marius adopted y' when y' were _deux_." He still held out hope that he could poke a hole in the validity of their marriage.

"He did." She said, pausing as she decided how much to tell him. "But he didn't raise me. He oversaw my trainin'. Aunt Carrie took care of the rest. She was from Mississippi."

"Aunt Carrie?" Remy asked with doubt.

He knew the Boudreaux family line as well as his own and there wasn't a Carrie in the bunch. Nor had he ever heard Bella Donna mention her before.

"Ah don't think she was my real aunt. Anyway, she…died when Ah was thirteen." Rogue grew quiet and he didn't push her for more.

They took a few turns around the dance floor in silence. Since they hadn't started a fight with each other, most people relaxed and went about socializing like normal. It helped ease the tension in the room.

Even Remy felt some of his anger melting away. Rogue didn't seem like some vindictive bitch trying to screw him over. She was still elusive and a little small talk didn't give him a whole lot of insight. But on the surface she appeared genuine. She hadn't snipped at him like he had sulked at her. And her answers hadn't been sarcastic even though he'd intended to antagonize her. Maybe with a little bit of honey to his words, he could get her to open up about what she knew.

"Y' know if things were different, if we were just _bons_ _amis_, I'd tell y' that y' look beautiful t'day." Remy tried.

Rogue saw the backhanded flattery for what it was. With a little smirk, she said: "Nice try, Swamp Rat. Ah know yer game and it ain't gonna work on me."

Besides the half-hearted ghost of a smile in the limo, her dimpled grin was the first he'd seen on her all day. For some reason, it made him happy to see it there. As fleeting as the thought appeared, it suddenly grew into disgust.

He loved Belle and despite what he'd vowed to this woman, his heart wouldn't ever change. His faithfulness and loyalty would always lie with Belle. If he tried to make Rogue happy, it would be like cheating on his one true love and he couldn't do that. So he fell back on his anger.

Sensing the change in attitude, Rogue's smile slipped off her face. The music came to a soft close and they awkwardly finished the last few steps. Marius was already on his way over for the Father-Daughter dance.

Before they broke apart, he whispered, "Where's Belle?"

Rogue glanced up into his intense gaze. Despite their teasing little moment, his thoughts always were and always would be for Bella Donna. It cemented her resolve as she shut him out too.

"Ah don't know." She honestly answered, the truth shining in her eyes.

Remy nodded as he let her go, believing what she'd said. Even if he thought she was lying, he couldn't prod for more information because Marius was already cutting in.

"_Gendre_. Y' won't deny me de pleasure of one last dance wit' _ma fille, hein_?" Marius asked as he smoothly pushed his son-in-law out of the way.

He didn't wait for an answer, but Remy gave it to him anyway as he swept her up in the dance. "_Non_, not at all."

Once out of ear shot, Marius chided Rogue. "Smile as if t'day is de happiest of yo' life."

After years of living with this man's high expectations and the consequences of any failures, Rogue did as she was commanded. The musical director had instructed the wedding guests that they could join the couple at a certain cue. Until then, Marius had the floor and Rogue to himself. When he was sure that Remy had rejoined his cousins and the remaining thieves were otherwise engaged, he laid into his surrogate daughter with thinly veiled anger.

"Yo' not goin' soft on me now, are y' _fille_?" He asked through a broad smile.

"_Non_. _Quoi père?"_ She responded back.

When possible, Rogue was supposed to speak in Cajun French when addressing Marius. He'd said it was so he didn't have to hear that low class Mississippi accent that Aunt Carrie had imparted on her years ago when she was first learning to speak.

"I saw y' smile at somethin' he said. I told y' he could charm a snake." Marius pointed out.

"And that's exactly what Ah told him when he tried." Rogue matter-of-factly stated. Her smile was still in place but just as fake his.

Marius caught the eye of the photographer, waving and winking for a photo op as he said: "_Bon. _Then y' know what y' have t' do t'night."

"_Oui, père_." Rogue's feigned happiness faltered into resignation, unable to keep up the pretense of the perfectly happy, functional family.

Marius looked sharply into her eyes, waiting for her full attention. It was the only time he dropped his politician's smile.

"Remember yo' duty and remember yo' place. Y' are an _assassin_. And de thieves must bow at our feet." He declared.

"_Bien sûr, père_." Rogue agreed.

With her recommitment, Marius signaled to the musical director that the guests could join them on the dance floor. Slowly, other couples filled up the outskirts. When enough people had started to press in on the father-daughter pair, Marius broke away from her.

"I expect a full report in person t'morrow mornin'. Once all de drama's over." He commanded in a low voice before leaving her alone in the middle of the dance floor.

Taking a look around, Rogue suddenly realized there was no one in the entire roomful of people who was on her side. Trying to find a familiar face, she worried her lip and twisted her fingers together.

Now that Marius was finished with her for the day, he would expect her to stay as far away from him as possible. And Julien was no more her brother than Marius was her father. Remy was back to ignoring her while getting a drink at the bar, fortunately ordering water this time. She had no friends to act as bridesmaids or groomsmen. And she didn't know any of the thieves to start a conversation with them, not that she was even supposed to be friendly in the first place.

Stepping forward, she weaved through the growing crowd on the dance floor only to come face to face with Remy's Tante Mattie. The way the woman had read the New Testament passage during the ceremony was powerful enough to strike fear in the holiest of men, much less Rogue. Tante's imposing stature and straight face did nothing to assuage that fear. Not to mention that the woman was blocking Rogue's path.

"Pardon me." She averted her eyes as she tried to skirt past the woman, but Tante only moved to cut her off again.

Thinking that the step was a mistake, Rogue tried the other direction only to be followed. Slowly, she looked into that stony expression when she realized Tante was stopping her on purpose. The two women stared at each other: Rogue determining if she could politely avoid a confrontation while Tante seemed to call on unworldly powers to read into her very soul.

"Ya gon' do right by my boy." It was both a command and a statement, as if she'd seen into the future to know that Rogue wouldn't harm Remy and that things would all work out in the end.

Rogue didn't know what to say other than agree with her. "Yes, _Traiteur _Baptiste."

"I'll have none of that, chile." Tante admonished as she pulled Rogue into a big hug. "Ya call me Tante, just like ev'ryone else."

Rogue panicked for a moment. It was the first real hug someone other than Aunt Carrie had given her. Even the last of those was years ago. But somehow Tante knew Rogue's insecurities and was careful about the embrace. With a tight squeeze, Rogue let her guard down for just a moment and savored the little bit of affection.

As the hug came to a natural conclusion, she struggled to blink away the moisture in her eyes.

"Thank ya, Tante." Rogue whispered so only she could hear it.

Tante's stern face broke into a huge grin, her white teeth glowing in contrast to her dark skin.

"Ev'rythin's gon' be just fine." She said as she patted Rogue's arms.

A man cleared his throat behind them and broke the moment. When Rogue felt a gentle touch at her elbow, she finally turned away from Tante to come face to face with Emil.

"Y' saved me a dance, right?" He asked with a boyish grin.

Feeling infinitely lighter, Rogue gave him a soft smile in return. "Sure."

With Tante's acceptance, the bubble separating Rogue from the thieves suddenly burst. After two dances with Emil (because according to him she hadn't smiled enough during the first one), Henri cut in. He twirled her around for a song, apologizing for his brother's behavior before taking her over to meet Mercy.

Henri's wife barely had enough time to make plans with Rogue for next week when they were called for family portraits by the grand staircase. Remy, who'd resumed sulking in the corner, followed them out per his father's orders and smiled for all the pics as he'd been instructed. Once his part was done, he stepped outside for a smoke.

Upon their return to the ballroom, Jean-Luc asked for a dance with the bride. Rogue graciously accepted, though she thought it was more of a formality to represent the peace between the Guilds as opposed to anything else. When the song was finished, he escorted her to the bridal party's table so she could rest.

Her earlier tension had somewhat dissipated, but the day was beginning to take its toll on her. Rogue had only been able to relax for a few songs before another of Remy's cousins, Etienne, timidly approached her.

"_Escuze-moi_." He quietly interrupted her thoughts. "I was wonderin' if y'd like t' dance wit' me."

After dancing with nearly every one of Remy's male relatives and the obligatory members of the Assassins Guild, Rogue couldn't say no now. But fatigue was setting in and she found it hard to muster up anything more than a tired smile for him.

"Of course." She stood and accepted his hand as he led her onto the dance floor.

Each of her earlier partners was quick to jump into small talk. So it was a little surprising when Etienne started with a compliment instead.

"_Tu es très jolie_." He shyly observed.

It was a sweet comment, meant as nothing more than an ice breaking bit of flattery. But it felt like the most genuine compliment she'd received all day. It probably helped that his cheeks pinked a bit when he'd said it.

"Thanks." She gave him a twinkling smile.

They spun through a few steps of the waltz, an uneasiness settling between them. Rogue could tell that Etienne was trying to think of something witty to say, but it was obvious he wasn't as suave and debonair as his older cousin.

Finally landing on a topic, he blurted out, "_Mon cousin est un homme bon_."

It was a weird thing to bring up at a time like this. Maybe he hadn't been searching for small talk after all but rather carefully choosing his words.

"Ah'm sure he is." Rogue agreed if only to keep the peace.

"_Non_, y' don't understand." Etienne tried again. "I've seen de way he's acted t'day. And I'm sure his reputation precedes him. But this ain't what he's usually like."

Unsure how to rebut the sterling defense, Rogue simply said, "Okay…"

Etienne slowed their pace a bit, making sure he had her attention before he added, "He saved my life."

"Oh." Rogue softly answered.

There'd been stories that had gone around. Remy had heroically rescued his younger cousin during the boy's Tithing. Other than that though, the details hadn't really been important to the assassins. Rogue hadn't realized until now that Etienne was that cousin. It was strange putting a face to Remy's altruistic deed. Though she supposed looking out for each other was what family did, not that she'd ever experienced that bond first hand. Assassins weren't exactly the touchy-feely type.

"What I'm tryin' t' say is please give him a fair chance, for de sake of peace. I know he doesn't seem like it now, but he'll be _un bon mari_." Etienne pleaded.

What was she supposed to say? Their marriage was one of convenience. She'd traded one form of subjugation for another. And based on his remarks today, Remy no doubt felt the same way. It didn't really matter if they were good spouses to one another. But how was she supposed to explain all of that to someone who obviously hero-worshipped Remy?

"Ah'll see what Ah can do." It the best commitment she could make.

Etienne gave her a hard look, as if he could see behind the pitiful promise. But whatever he saw there, he let go for now.

"He's lucky t' have y'." He observed as the music slowed. "I know I'd gladly switch places wit' him."

Rogue opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She wasn't sure how to respond to his comment. Before she could think of something, the song ended and he stepped away.

As she stared after him, the musical director announced it was time for the last dance. Remy had been outside smoking another cigarette, but someone went out and fetched him. He came back inside, cell phone to his ear as he finished up the call. Whatever was said had put him in a bad mood again and he refused to even look at Rogue as they slowly swayed to the music. Plus he reeked of the spicy mesquite aroma that hung around after smoking Sobranie Black Russians. It wasn't unpleasant, but he must have been chain smoking to smell so overpowering.

Thankfully, the song was short and it was no time before they were heading back outside to the waiting limo. There would be no exotic destination honeymoon. They were leaving Le Pavillon to go directly to the LeBeau Manor and Remy's suite. Rogue had already packed her few possessions from the assassins' headquarters and someone had sent it over hours ago.

The only thing left to do was say their goodbyes to their families. While Remy seemed to be having an argument with his brother, Rogue was receiving last words of advice from Marius. With his sycophantic mask in place, her adoptive father held her upper arms in mock tenderness.

As he pulled her closer, he breathed into her ear: "Clean and quiet. It has t' be natural."

"_Oui, père_." Rogue repeated. They'd been over this a million times already.

The photographer was nearby, frantically snapping the final shots of the day. "How 'bout a hug for yo' daughter?" He called for the photo op.

Since they were out in public and Marius was supposed to be the doting father, he begrudgingly agreed. He'd always been careful not to get too close to Rogue and especially not to ever let her touch him. As he leaned in to wrap her up in his arms, her veil pulled up to expose a little sliver of her skin. His hand barely brushed her. The contact was long enough to trigger her mutation but short enough that he didn't seem affected.

Rogue quietly gasped, unable to believe what she'd just seen in his memories. It was completely against the mission that had been so clear that morning. She was supposed to go through with the deceptive marriage long enough to make it to the honeymoon. Then her mutation would handle the rest to ensure that Remy LeBeau did not survive to see the next morning.

But through the course of the night, the thieves had slowly become more than nameless enemies to her. In the last few hours, they'd been better friends and family than any assassin she'd ever known. It made her doubt what she'd always been raised to believe. Combined with the knowledge that Marius had every intention of killing her after she eliminated her new husband, Rogue cemented new plans in her mind.

Pulling away from the embrace, she gave him her most winsome smile. It was a great effort to suppress the hatred that flowed through her veins. If she'd always only ever been a pawn in his bigger game, then she would show him what revenge truly meant.

"I have faith in yo' _talents_." Marius offered in closing. "Y'll deliver de justice of assassins."

"Yes, without a single hesitation." Rogue promised.

**(X)**

_Le plaisir est pour moi _– The pleasure is mine.

_Je t'emmerde!_ – Fuck you!

_Connard!_ – Asshole!

_Couillon_ – (Cajun) crazy fool

_Tu es très jolie_. _- _You look very pretty.

_Mon cousin est un homme bon_. – My cousin is a good man.

_un bon mari_ – a good husband


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Lots of pics are up. This chap is one of the inspiration pieces for this fic. Everyone always has Remy and Rogue head over heels for each other at first sight. I'm all about the 'what if' and what circumstances could make the opposite true.

**Side Note**: I've had a couple people ask for updates and schedules. I'll be posting things like that on my website: codealiaswave. . I usually give an in-between chapter update a couple of times a week.

**Thanks** again to everyone who's following. You're my sugar high on writing! ;D

**Chapter 5**

The limo ride to the LeBeau Manor mirrored the one to Le Pavillon. Except this time there was no one to act as a buffer between the distant couple. Sitting on opposite sides of the vehicle, Remy and Rogue went back to ignoring each other.

Whatever had been said during Remy's phone conversation had irascibly soured his petulant mood. He'd lit up another cigarette as soon as they were on their way. The strong aroma quickly filled the back of the limo.

Rogue rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache coming on from the combination of the cloying smoke and her adoptive father's memories. She slouched down in the seat and closed her eyes in an attempt to both relax away the tension and sort through Marius' thoughts. But the increased throbbing at her temples effectively muddled her plans for revenge.

"Ya have every right ta smoke," Rogue offhandedly started, "but could ya at least roll down the window so Ah don't have ta inhale it too?"

"_Hmpf_." Remy scoffed, the noise coming from the back of his throat. Begrudgingly, he complied. "S'pose yo' one of those _femmes_ who thinks smokin's a dirty habit. S'pose y' gon' tell me I gotta quit."

"No, not at all." Rogue contradicted, still trying to sort through the jumbled thoughts in her head. "Ah think some tobacco in an open space has a pleasant aroma. But overall Ah believe the permanent consequences of smokin' outweigh the temporary effects. So _Ah_ choose _not_ ta smoke."

"_Bon_. Just 'cause we're married don't mean y' gon' come in and demand changes. Ain't gon' happen. In fact, let's set down some ground rules." He suggested as he sat up straight and turned toward her.

"Remy, Ah'm really not in the mood for this tonight." Rogue sighed.

"_Une_," He ticked off on his forefinger as if she hadn't spoken. "If y' wanna go by Rogue, then y' can call me Gambit."

"Fine, whatever, _Gambit_." She agreed, hoping he'd knock it off.

Instead, he jumped right into "_Deux_-" but the limo came to a smooth stop and gave her reason to interrupt him. "Look, we're here. We can talk 'bout the rest of yer rules later."

Honestly, Rogue didn't really much care about what else he had to say. The day's events had been tiring enough. All she really wanted to do now was get out of the restrictive dress and its undergarments before taking a shower and crawling into bed…_.his_ bed. It was just another reminder of today's change to her life.

The arrival at the LeBeau Manor distracted Remy enough that he stormed out of the limo without waiting for her. Rogue sighed as she gathered up the yards of fine fabric and climbed out herself. As she exited the vehicle, she got her first close look at the daunting one hundred fifty year old plantation.

Its three stories were stylized in a combination of Greek Revival and Italianate architecture. A set of winding Italian marble staircases with ornamental iron railings rose from the ground floor to the second story terrace where the front entrance was proudly displayed. On all sides, Tuscan columns supported the towering edifice. From where she stood, Rogue could see a courtyard garden to her left and an equally impressive rotunda extension on her right.

It was no wonder almost all the thieves lived here. Marius had drilled into her the specifications of the palatial home, training her to know her enemy better than she knew herself. The manor alone boasted 55,000 square feet of living space, complete with 65 rooms and 10 personal suites. It was certainly enough to fit the entire LeBeau family and higher ranking Guild members. There was also a 1,000 square foot vault somewhere on the first floor that was accessible through a Hamilton Class 3 security door. It was a veritable Fort Knox.

And that was just the house alone. The compound consisted of additional housing quarters; fitness, training, laundry, and nutrition facilities; and even an onsite theater featuring anticipated and newly released films. The last wasn't surprising considering the group that lived here. They were thieves after all.

Brushing aside the intimidation, Rogue headed toward the stairs leading to the front entrance. As she cleared the last step, she saw that Remy had left the door wide open for her. He, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.

Rogue reached the threshold and stopped. Marius had indoctrinated her from a young age that this would be her life. There were no little girl delusions about a big white dress and a fancy ceremony in a decorated cathedral, even though that's how it played out. No dreams of meeting someone on her own and falling in love. No desires for being caught up in the moment and swept away to a romantic honeymoon hideout. No, she was supposed to marry Remy LeBeau and kill him in his sleep the night of their wedding.

But her sequestered life hadn't completely cut her off from the world and society. Rogue had access to TV shows and movies that depicted the whole expensive wedding affair. And in all the really romantic plots, the groom always carried the bride over the threshold. Maybe her marriage wasn't one she chose, but somewhere in the back of her mind she'd hoped to have at least one perfect wedding cliché. Instead, Rogue could hear Remy stomping up the staircase in the main hall.

Sighing in resignation, she took the figurative and literal first step into her new life. Once inside, she made sure her gown was completely out of the way before closing the door behind her. She slowly walked down the main hall, taking stock of the rooms on her left and right.

Both had large open entries with no doors. It was meant to give the illusion of an open floor plan without actually constructing one. On her left was a formal sitting room, no doubt used to limit visitor access. It was decked out in rich royal blue and golden hues. Sun motifs from the LeBeau coat of arms completed the theme.

The room on the right led to the famous white ballroom, a leftover of the bygone Antebellum era. Rogue had heard stories about the parties held in the beautiful room, but seeing it herself was another thing entirely. Though plain in color and adornment, it was breathtakingly romantic. If circumstances had been different, she would have wanted the reception to be held there.

Rogue let herself get lost in the imaginings of an intimate gathering with close friends and family celebrating the love of the newly wedded couple. Her daydream only lasted a moment before it was interrupted by the heavy footfalls of Remy tramping back down the stairs. He threw his hands up in the air when he saw her.

"_Vous y êtes_. What's takin' so long?" He asked, not bothering to hide his impatience.

Rogue decided to play dumb. There was no reason for her to know the manor's layout. And although she'd decided not to give Marius what he wanted by killing Remy, she hadn't quite figured out how to desert the assassins and live. So for now, she needed to continue playing the part of the quiet, isolated Boudreaux daughter.

"Ah've never been here before. How am Ah s'pose ta know where ta go?" She answered, placing her free hand on her hip. The other still held the fabric of her gown.

Remy muttered under his breath as he strode over and grabbed her covered wrist, dragging her along behind him. "Keep up and y' won't be gettin' lost."

Normally, she'd never let anyone manhandle her this way. But now was not the time to whip out nineteen years of assassin training. There would be plenty of time to kick his ass during a training session late.

The two climbed the first flight of steps before rounding the corner to the second. On the top floor landing, Remy hung a right and headed toward the garden side of the house. Even though Rogue knew the blueprints by heart, the floor plans hadn't specified which rooms belonged to whom. The couple passed two hallways before finally taking another right. There were only two doors available in this hallway. Remy strode up to the first.

He pressed a small, inconspicuous button that looked vaguely like a doorbell. A panel in the wall slid open to reveal a biometric reader. After scanning his hand, the lock on the door popped open. Upon turning the knob, the little panel slid closed again. Rogue had to bite her tongue from commenting about the irony that a thief locked his suite in a house full of other thieves.

"Wait here." Remy instructed as he went inside.

Tired and irritated, Rogue cocked her hip to the side before awkwardly crossing her arms over the pile of lace and tulle. Fortunately, Remy quickly came back with a cable in hand. Pulling out his cell phone, he repeated the process to open the panel and hooked the scanner up to the phone.

With a couple of swipes in an application, he said, "Put yo' hand on de scanner."

Rogue did as she was instructed. A short beep emitted from Remy's phone. He fiddled around for another moment before turning the phone toward her.

"Backup is voiceprint. Say _rusé_." He held the phone up to her mouth.

Arching an eyebrow at his word choice, she repeated the French equivalent of 'foxy'. The phone beeped again in recognition. When he was sure the security measures were set up, he reset the door so she'd have to test her access.

"_Par tous les moyens, s'il vous plaît_." Remy stepped back and waved toward the door.

With a death glare, she pressed the button before laying her palm flat on the scanner. As expected, the lock popped open again.

"_Bon_. Now y' have access t' everythin' 'cept de vault." Remy said before indicating that she should go first.

"Lucky me." Rogue grumbled as she walked into his room.

Just like the rest of the house, the suite was opulent. A dark burgundy colored the walls while pale golden curtains and art brightened the room. A Chesterfield living room set took up much of the free space. The leather sofas and chairs circled an intricately carved coffee table, adding a rich cognac hue to the masculine colors. Crystal decanters filled with bourbon and brandy were arranged with matching double old fashioned glasses on the table.

On an opposing wall, a 92" flat screen was centrally mounted to provide the best viewing from every seat. Underneath was a small wet bar complete with a microwave and mini fridge. With the off white molding and ceilings, the room was balanced out by the chestnut hardwood floors.

Rogue whooshed out a breath, suddenly depressed. It really was a beautiful set up, but it definitely was a room belonging to a man. With every square inch tastefully designed, there was no place for her to inject a little of herself into the living space. Though she wasn't a pink ruffles kind of girl, she would have picked a slightly softer décor.

She had to remind herself that she was never supposed to actually live her. If she'd gone along with the plan, she would have returned tomorrow to the assassin training center where her quarters were located. Now that things had changed, she didn't want to feel like an outsider in the only home she had left. Despite the acceptance some of the thieves had shown her at the reception, the truth was she didn't belong anywhere.

Impatient, Remy brushed past her and toward the only other door in the room. He shrugged out of his spaulder and jacket before disappearing into what had to be the bedroom. When she didn't immediately follow, he popped his head back around the corner.

"Well? What are y' waitin' for? Let's get this over wit'." He demanded, unbuttoning his shirt.

"Excuse me?" Rogue answered. Her ire grew as she stormed after him. "Let's get _what_ over with?"

By the time she made it into the bedroom, Remy was already out of his shirt and undoing his pants. The black slacks hung loosely around his hips. A white wife beater hid most of his sculpted muscles from view, but what she could see of him was spectacular. Rogue finally understood why so many women were attracted to him. His body was divine, but his personality spoiled the package.

"Sex." He spat with disgust. "What else would I mean?"

"No." Rogue flatly declined. She crossed her arms over chest, the length of her gown dropping to the floor with the action.

Remy sat down on the bed, about to take off his shoes when he stopped at her response. His sharp gaze appraised her rigid stance, trying to figure out her reason for refusal.

When he couldn't come up with an answer, he asked, "_Que_?"

"Ah said, 'no'." Anger flashed in her vibrant green eyes.

Jumping up, Remy zipped his pants and strode over to her. Mere inches separated their bodies as he shouted in her face. "What do y' mean, 'no'? In case y' don't remember, we're married now. Thanks t' yo' _cher père_, that means we have t' conjugate the marriage. And if we produce an heir, de Guilds stop focusin' on us and more on de kid."

His condescending tone and idiotic train of thought only furthered Rogue's rage. His proposition to engage in meaningless, mechanical sex just to have a baby would only lead to someone else being manipulated the same way both of them had been used. After everything that had happened today, his words were the last straw. She'd finally had enough of his piss poor attitude.

"Ah know what that means and Ah still say no!" She shouted back. "Even if Ah was interested in ruttin' around with ya in the sheets, Ah_ can't_."

"And why's that?" He demanded.

"Yer not the only mutant in the Guilds." She confessed, indicating his demon like eyes.

There was an eerie silence as Remy took a step back to look at her. For the first time, he noticed that she was covered head to toe. The only part of her that was exposed was her face and part of her torso. Even that wouldn't be an area someone would casually or accidentally touch. It left him wondering what she was hiding. Was her skin made up of lizard scales or was she some weird half woman, half goat creature or was she something else entirely? Reaching for her arm, he started to yank off one of her gloves.

Rogue jerked her hand back when she realized his intent. "Ah wouldn't do that."

Remy thought about ignoring her warning before he chose the wiser path to question instead of discover her secret firsthand. "Tell me why yo' covered up then."

"When Ah touch people, they slip into a coma. If Ah hold on long enough, they die." She set her jaw, defying him to find out for himself.

In all actuality, there was more to her powers than that. But Marius wasn't the only person adept at concealing things. She'd successfully hidden her abilities to steal thoughts and other mutations. Aunt Carrie had protected her as long as possible until Marius forced Rogue to kill her. The event had been horribly traumatizing and should have psychologically ruined her. Instead, she focused on gaining control so she wouldn't ever be faced with that involuntary reaction again.

Rogue was the only person that knew about her mastery over her mutation. Marius thought she simply had a deadly touch. It made her the perfect assassin: able to kill without leaving a trace. Her method looked as if the person died peacefully in their sleep. Hence the reason Marius wanted to use her to kill Remy.

Since the assassins believed her to be untouchable, it was important to maintain that façade. If she let it slip around the thieves, word would get back to Marius and bring her betrayal to light. No, she would wait to reveal that she had complete control until the very last moment when she stared into Marius' eyes and took his life.

"_Putain!_" Remy cursed. A second later, an idea popped into his head. "If I can't touch y', then how are we s'pose t' have kids?"

No matter what she said, he could use it against her to have the marriage nullified. She had known about her mutation _before_ she consented to having children. And even though he still didn't know where Belle was after all the phone calls he'd made, obtaining an annulment from Rogue would allow him to marry Belle when she finally did turn up. Things suddenly looked up for him again.

"Guess ya've never heard of IVF." Rogue answered, laying the sarcasm on thick.

"_Génial!_" Just like that, Remy's bubble burst. "So not only am I _never _gonna have sex again in this lifetime, but I have t' jack off int' a cup too?"

Rogue ignored the crudeness of his statement, deciding instead to pick at his figurative wounds. "Ah'm sure that'll be the biggest sacrifice ya've made in yer whole spoiled life."

Remy's hands balled up into fists as his jaw clenched shut. For a moment, she was sure he was going to hit her. He raised his arm, readying for the punch. Rogue defiantly raised her chin, daring him to try. They stared at each other for a second before he swung. At the last moment, he turned away and put his fist through the drywall.

"Feel better?" Rogue snapped.

Pulling his fist out of the hole he'd made, Remy spun around to get in her face. "Let's get one thing straight: y' don't know me. And y' don't have de right t' pass yo' judgment on me. Because of Marius, de life I had planned for myself is over. And I blame y' as much as I do him for yo' role in it. I _hate_ y'. Wit' every fiber of my bein', I hate y'. And that ain't ever gon' change."

Spittle landed on her cheek with the vehemence of his words, but Rogue stood her ground. Her eyes darted over his face to make sure he was done saying his peace.

With a cold, collected voice, she said: "Then we have somethin' in common. My whole life has been all about _you_." She cryptically answered. "And Ah _hate_ that."

They stared at each other, two predators trying to figure out who was the more dominant beast. Unwilling to be in her presence a second longer, Remy was the first to break eye contact. He didn't give a single thought to what she said. Instead of hearing that her life had been about him, all he heard was that they mutually hated each other. Grabbing his shirt off the bed, he stormed toward the suite's door.

"Where do ya think yer goin'?" Rogue asked, mostly just wanting to continue the fight.

All he answered was, "Out."

"They'll kill ya if they find out ya left." She promised, referring to the other assassins and the peace treaty.

Remy paused with his hand on the doorknob. He refused to look back at her. "Don't worry, _amoureux_. Y' and yo' _père _got yo' hooks buried deep. I'll play de dutiful husband. Just not t'night."

Swiftly pulling open the door, he strode out before slamming it behind him. Rogue took the few steps to the bed before collapsing onto the soft mattress.

What she'd said was only partially true. Her whole life had been about Remy, but she'd never hated him for it. She didn't know him enough to have any affinity toward him. And assassins were trained from an early age to remove emotion from the equation when accepting a contract. No, the only feelings she had were negatively directed at Marius. And she would have to get those under control before she could succeed in destroying his empire.

**(X)**

_Vous y êtes_. _– _There you are.

_Par tous les moyens, s'il vous plaît_. – By all means, please.

_Que_? – What?

_Putain! – _Fuck!

_Génial! _– Great!

_Amoureux_ - sweetheart


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N:** A lot of people mentioned Remy's attitude up until now, either agreeing with it or saying he's too much of an ass. I was inspired by the _X-Men Origins: Gambit_ comic. You can read it if you have the Marvel Digital Comics Unlimited subscription (only $10 a month and well worth it). He does fluctuate hot and cold in the first couple of panels.

Something else to keep in mind: he's young and privileged. I'm keeping with the comics in the sense that he grew up on the streets after the thieves stole him. But that was a good 15 years previous to the events of this fic. And his life has been pretty posh since. Nothing really bad has happened to him yet, including Stryker. (There was no good way to work that explanation into the prose since it hasn't even happened in this timeline/alternate universe.) So that means I'm breaking with any pseudo timeline the films tried to create (and the ramifications these changes will have on the movies).

Also, I lied (and since adjusted the fic's summary). This fic won't circle back to any of the movies. But the sequel will! ;D (already working on the outline)

**Thanks** to everyone who has been so very patient and to everyone who's very kindly pestered me every day to update. It's been great to see your opinions and theories. You make keeping plot secrets so much fun! It's definitely my favorite fic to hear from everyone.

**Chapter 6**

Frustrated. That was the only way to sum up how Remy felt. After storming out, he'd contacted every source he could to try to find Bella Donna's location. Amazingly, or rather suspiciously, no one had any leads. Even the thief that had infiltrated the assassins' ranks had no idea.

Remy was sure Marius had stashed her away during the ceremony. But now that everything was over and the assassins had gotten what they'd wanted, wouldn't he let her go from wherever he'd put her? It just didn't make any sense.

In fact as he thought about it more, Remy realized he hadn't seen her since the Wednesday before the ceremony. At the time, he'd just chocked it up to her being busy with the final arrangements. But what if something had happened to her then? Surely Marius wouldn't kill his own daughter. He may be a sadistic, selfish, power hungry murderer, but Belle was his pride and joy. She even held a higher place than Julien.

With all his resources exhausted, Remy had no choice but to play the waiting game. While he'd mastered the skill of meticulous patience needed to plan a score, he hadn't been able to apply that same talent to other areas of his life. And when it concerned Belle, he swung to the opposite extreme.

Once his contacts agreed to lookout for more information, his neuroticism deflated into a ball of pent-up energy. The years of having to deal with his mutation and its increased effects on his body's basic functions had taught him that only physical exertion worked to refocus his mind. At a little after one in the morning, he'd stripped down to the black tuxedo pants he hadn't bothered to change out of and pushed his body to the limits in the training facility.

Two hours of abusing the equipment hadn't helped him gain any sense of calm. So Remy had given up and gotten drunk again. Stumbling back to his room, the only thing he had on his mind was collapsing into his big bed and sleeping until his phone rang with some kind of news. But first, he really had to piss.

Shuffling through the darkened room, he completely forgot about its new occupant. He wasn't trying to be noisy, but he wasn't living up to his stealthy thief's reputation either. There was no need to turn on a light since he knew the layout like the back of his hand. Instead, Remy padded across the tiled bathroom floor and lifted the toilet seat before letting loose. He hadn't bothered to shut the door.

After an inordinate amount of time, he finished, zipped up, and flushed. The toilet seat remained up as he walked over to wash his hands. What he found on the dual sinks only served to remind him of the wife he didn't want.

Contained within a neat arrangement on the countertop were all the various beauty and skin care products that most females couldn't live without. Granted, the collection of bottles, tubes, and containers didn't even touch the chaotic mass that Belle had in her bathroom. But the sight of his normally spartan counter being cluttered with feminine frills morphed his frustration into resentment. With an indignant roar, Remy knocked all of it into the sink as if he was clearing out the garbage.

Immediately jarred awake by the clatter, Rogue sat up and reached for the knife she'd earned during her Bloodletting, a ritual similar to the thieves' Tithing. Her keen eyes quickly identified the source of the commotion and she raised her arm to throw the blade at the shadowy figure in the bathroom. At the last possible moment, she opened her hand to drop the weapon as her arm continued with the follow through. With her eyes adjusted, she shoved the knife back in its sheath and flicked on the light on the nightstand.

"What the hell d'ya think yer doin'? Ah coulda killed ya!" Rogue shouted.

Matching her volume, he quipped back: "That makes _deux_ of us! Who gave y' permission t' put yo' _foutaise_ on my sink?"

Realizing she had delicate bottles that could have broken, she threw back the covers and grabbed her short silk robe. Rogue quickly threw it around her shoulders as she rushed into the bathroom.

"Yer such an asshole!" She screamed, pushing past him. Her bare hand briefly touched his chest where the thin white undershirt covered his skin.

"_Et vous êtes une salope_!" He responded, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the door frame.

"How the hell would _you _know." Rogue muttered under her breath.

A quick survey of the most important products showed that they were still intact. Returning those few to an upright position on the sink, Rogue decided to take care of the rest later. First, she needed to address her _husband_.

"Tell me, where am Ah s'pose ta put my stuff if this ain't acceptable?" She asked, mimicking his posture as she leaned against the vanity.

"How 'bout back where y' came from?" Remy countered.

Rogue rolled her eyes as she unfolded her arms. "We both know that ain't gonna happen."

Something in her peripheral vision irked her. Looking to her right, she saw the toilet seat up. She marched over to it and slammed it down.

"Make sure ya put that back down when yer finished bein' disgustin'." She said as she pushed past him.

"I'll do as I damn well please!" Remy childishly countered.

Crossing the room, Rogue ignored him as she shrugged out of the robe and climbed back into the side of the bed closest to the windows. Just like the scenario with the sink, there had been no discernible way to indicate which side was his. Getting to know him the last few hours, she had no doubt Remy was the type to sleep in the middle of the bed and therefore didn't have one specific side.

"What do y' think yo' doin'?" He questioned as he followed her into the bedroom.

"What does it look like Ah'm doin'?" Rogue answered, quickly checking the time on her cell phone. "Ah've been up since six yesterday mornin'. Unlike some people, _Ah'm_ tired."

She knew a little about his mutation, but the exact details were hard to come by. Even the assassin that had infiltrated the thieves' ranks had no idea. What had been determined was that Remy wasn't on a normal sleep schedule like everyone else. Rogue figured he wouldn't be sleeping with her at night as much as a normal man.

"Yo' not gon' sleep in that." He waved at her thin, strappy negligee.

Rogue tried to hide her cringe as she slid under the covers. The short white number was completely backless. It had been chosen for her as a means to expose as much skin as possible for her honeymoon night. That was when the plan still included killing him. Best case scenario, he would have touched her when they consummated the marriage. Worst case, she could have brushed up against him long enough to incapacitate him before draining him dry. Either way, she'd totally forgotten about it when she'd gotten ready for bed earlier in the night.

Tired of all the dictates that had been placed on her for nineteen years, Rogue wasn't about to let Remy add to it.

"Listen." She started, making sure she had his full attention. "Ah've been covered from head ta toe my whole life. The only time Ah ever got ta wear normal clothes was ta bed at night. Ah'mnot about ta change that now just because Ah have ta share a bed. If ya don't like it, _you_ sleep covered up."

Remy just stood flabbergasted by her little speech. It was his house and his bed for crying out loud!

As she pulled the covers up and rolled over, she shot a quick: "There's always the sofa in the other room too."

"I am _not_ sleepin' on de couch." Remy stomped over to the bed.

"Well then Ah guess ya best slap on some long johns." Rogue smirked into her pillow as she flicked off the light.

He huffed as he tried to find something to say. With her lack of clothing, he couldn't very well pick her up and throw her onto the couch. Of course he could always put on gloves and a long sleeved shirt. But if he was going to go to that much trouble, he may as well just climb into bed next to her. She couldn't be that dangerous, could she? If Rogue killed him in their sleep, there'd be an all-out Guild war. Even as bloodthirsty as they were, the assassins didn't want that.

There was an extra blanket in the linen closet. He could always sleep on top of the covers with his back to her. Tired and drunk, he decided that would work best for tonight. Tomorrow, he'd figure out some other arrangement. Grabbing a thin, long sleeved t-shirt, he tossed the garment over his head as he went to fetch the blanket.

Remy flopped onto the bed, situating his pillow before throwing the blanket over his pant-covered legs. Sleeping in the tailored pants would be uncomfortable, not to mention he hadn't showered since working out. But fatigue had finally hit and all he wanted to do was sleep it off. Maybe the nightmare would be over when he woke up.

He wiggled a little bit more, pulling on her share of the covers. Irritated, Rogue forcefully pulled them back on her side. His restlessness caused little reverberations in the mattress, further annoying her.

"Would ya please settle?" She snapped at him.

"_Vous allez vous faire foutre_?" He quipped back, jerking on the covers one last time just to irritate her.

When Remy finally stopped moving, Rogue readjusted the blankets and closed her eyes. She prayed he didn't snore. Or kick. Or any other foul habit. Since she wasn't going to kill him, she would have to live with him for the foreseeable future. And she wasn't sure she could tolerate any disgusting tendencies.

As sleep finally crept over her thoughts, she gave in to the nothingness of much needed rest. Peace settled over her brain for only a moment before her cell phone loudly chirped into her consciousness. With her pulse racing, she cracked an eye to bright sunlight filling the room. Obviously she'd been asleep longer than it felt. Reaching for the annoying little device, she checked the time as well as the incoming number.

_7:02AM_

_Marius Boudreaux_

Groaning, Rogue accepted the call. "_Bon matin, père_."

She was in trouble. He answered back in French. "_Is it? I don't hear any wailin' comin' from de LeBeau Manor._"

Responding back in his native tongue, she scrambled out a quick, "_Somethin's come up."_

Exactly what that something was, Rogue still didn't know. What she did know was that she would have to come up with more and soon.

"_Then y' won't mind comin' home for a visit_." Marius demanded.

"_But the treaty said Ah have ta stay here_." She countered as she sat up in bed. Remy was nowhere to be seen.

"_I'm sure y'll come up wit' an excuse. Tell them yo' father misses y' already." _The sneer was evident to her even through the phone. "_There'll be a car waitin' for y' outside in twenty minutes. Don't be late._"

"_Oui, père_." Rogue agreed as the other end of the line went dead.

She laid the phone back on the nightstand before rubbing her hands over her face. How did her life turn into such a clusterfuck? Sliding her fingers through her hair, she realized the blanket Remy slept with last night wasn't on the bed. Other than his side being a little mussed, she never would have known he'd been there last night. Getting out of bed, she made a quick round through the suite.

There was no evidence to show when he'd gotten up and left. His body wasn't lying dead on the floor, so at least he'd survived the night with her. Of course, he would have anyway since she had to consciously think about her mutation to activate it now. Not that he knew that.

Rogue had showered last night before bed, washing the hairspray needed to keep the sleek chignon in place out of her long locks. Still, she felt a little grimy and wanted to rinse off. Brushing her teeth took longer than the quick shower. Even though her things had been brought to the LeBeau Manor yesterday, she'd only felt like unpacking her essentials last night. That meant her clothes were still tucked away in the duffle bags stored inside Remy's walk-in closet.

Rummaging through them, she picked a pair of black cargo pants and long sleeved white tee before layering on a navy utilitarian vest. Rogue had seen Marius' at his most vindictive and didn't know what awaited her. It was best to be fully prepared for a fight. As she zipped up her black knee high boots, she grabbed her knife and cell phone before creeping out of the suite.

No one ran into her on the upper levels. Everyone must have still been asleep after yesterday's big event. As she made it to the main hall, the estate gained a little more life. Toward the back of the house, she could hear pots and pans clattering. Most of the thieves ate at the onsite commissary, but she knew Tante Mattie enjoyed cooking for the LeBeau family. She must be in the kitchen preparing breakfast.

Rogue's stomach growled at the thought of a home cooked meal. Pushing away the sensation, she worked on getting out of the house and to the manor gates without being seen. Once she'd crossed the lush green lawn, she finally let her mind focus on a new strategy. Gris Gris, Marius' Besider, was waiting in a town car at the curb.

"De patriarch is not happy wit' y'." The dark skinned man said as Rogue slid into the backseat.

"Tell me somethin' Ah don't know." She mumbled, staring off into the passing scenery instead of meeting Gris Gris' stern gaze.

The man wasn't all that bad. From an early age, Marius had assigned him to be responsible for her assassination skills and training. Though Gris Gris had never shown her any specific kindness, he'd never looked down on her or treated her as if she was diseased like most of the other assassins had. In a way, Rogue supposed that was a kindness, especially considering the whispers that went around about his mastery over voodoo. Even still, the thirty minute drive to the assassin headquarters was tense to say the least.

Much like the LeBeau Manor, the building was entirely above ground. The first floor concealed any exterior surveillance. As Gris Gris opened the hidden entrance and pulled the car through the service tunnel, Rogue's adrenaline shot up tenfold. She still hadn't come up with a lie convincing enough to hide her failure and buy her more time. Every scenario she imagined she could pick a giant hole in the middle of the scheme. And Marius had a knack for weeding out lies.

When the car came to a stop, Rogue took a deep breath before stepping out of the vehicle. Whatever happened in the next twenty minutes would either destroy her or save her life.

Knowing the protocol by rote, she walked into the rounded chamber. Marius sat upon his throne as if even Death would bow down to him. Though she couldn't see them, Rogue knew the shadows were filled with fellow assassins. Some were even thirsting for her blood. She strode forward, stopping under a bright spotlight designed to be blinding. The only other source of light illuminated Marius ten feet in front of her.

Rogue gave the supplicating gesture all assassins were required to use in showing the Patriarch respect. Instead of lowering her fists when she rose out of the bow, she kept them pressed in place against her forehead. If he had wanted her dead, he could have given the order now while she was blind and held a minimalist defensive posture.

"_Why is LeBeau not dead, daughter?"_ Marius questioned in French.

"_He was mad about the marriage. Didn't come to bed right away last night_." Rogue's responding Cajun dialect was flawless. Her answer was also the barest of truths.

Marius patience was thin, barely held. "_But he did eventually go t' bed."_

_"Oui."_ Rogue answered, at a loss for any further explanation.

"_Why didn't y' kill him then?"_ Marius calmly demanded. The other assassins in the shadows shifted, sensing his impending judgment.

Rogue opened her mouth, a lie dying on her tongue. She had no good reason that would save her hide. Her palms started to sweat and she had to resist the urge to fidget. Taking a deep breath, she closed her mouth before locking her jaw. If now was her time to die, she wouldn't do it begging at Marius feet. Her chin lifted ever so slightly in defiance.

Not liking the change in her attitude, Marius prompted, "_I'll not ask again. Gimme yo' pitiful excuses now."_

Suddenly inspiration hit. Steeling her nerves to pull off a credible lie, Rogue answered: _"After he took me up ta his room, he left. Ah took a shower and got ready for bed. When he still hadn't come back, Ah went lookin' for him._"

_"That explains nothing!"_ Marius shouted as he jumped to his feet.

_"It explains everythin'!" _Rogue yelled back, not giving him a chance to argue before adding: _"Ah wandered through the whole house lookin' for him. Ah found him in Jean-Luc's office. They were talkin' over the weddin'. They're expectin' an attack from us and plannin' a coup of their own."_

When Rogue finished, her breathing was heavy from a combination of screaming, anxiety, and passion. Once she committed to something, she didn't let it go.

_"All the more reason t' eliminate LeBeau!_" Marius countered.

_"All the more reason ta let him live_." Rogue disagreed. "_The Unified Guild ain't been created yet. The leadership ain't been passed on. If he dies now, the peace won't last. If Ah find out their plan first, y'all have all the cards._"

The fact that Marius planned to kill her as well wasn't far from her mind. But she wasn't supposed to know that he wanted the peace to last just long enough that he could gain control of both Guilds. So she pretended the desire for peace was genuine.

Marius sat down, deep in thought as his critical eyes roamed over her. The lie had sounded real even to her own ears. She seriously doubted her adoptive father had picked it out. Instead, Rogue was hoping he was mulling over the idea of having a spy deep in the thieves' rank. The double agent already at the manor hadn't been able to get out of the bunkhouses and into the inner council yet.

After several tense minutes of his sharp gaze boring into her soul, Marius finally spoke. _"Alright, daughter. Y' have de time y' need. But don't think this is an unlimited allowance. Yo' purpose always has been and always will be t' take out LeBeau."_

_"Of course, father." _Rogue agreed before boldly adding: "_Ah need ta be considered _sub rosa_." _

It was an ancient term, dating back to the Old Kingdom. During its most prosperous time when both Guilds lived in peace and cooperation, the councils would often secretly meet over more clandestine matters. A rose was hung over the table as a token to everyone present that anything discussed within the meeting was confidential.

Of course the legend surrounding _sub rosa_ also usually included a thief violating the pact and starting the Guild Wars of the New Kingdom. After having spent a little time with the thieves, she was sure they would say it was an assassin who broke the vow of secrecy.

It really didn't matter anymore which side had done what. The assassins now used the term to mean someone who needed to assume deep cover in order to fulfill a contract. Her right to claim the special protection was valid. But would Marius grant it?

_"Alright_." He acquiesced. "_But y' will provide updates durin' de negotiations of power. And I needn't remind y' that y' will continue t' accept other contracts. T' keep up appearances of course."_

Obviously he did need to remind her or else he wouldn't have brought it up. His genial smile belied the disgust shining in his eyes. With a thinly veiled lie, Rogue had successfully disrupted his plans.

"_There's no other way._" Rogue said.

"_Good. Then I'll leave y' t' take out de trash._" Marius dismissed her as he waved toward someone behind her.

The insult toward Remy was overlooked as she tamped down the panic that one of the other assassins had been behind her to deliver the killing blow. She hadn't even noticed anyone creep up behind her and she'd always excelled at detecting attackers. By the time she spun around, only Gris Gris stood on the outskirt of the bright spotlight. Surely he hadn't been the one ordered to kill her, had he?

The light over Marius clicked off, followed by the one that she had been under. Only faint accent lighting in the highest rafters provided her enough illumination to see her way out.

"This way, _demoiselle_." Gris Gris held out a hand to indicate her path, quickly correcting himself of the old habit and adjusting to her married status. "_Pardonnez-moi, mademoiselle_."

Rogue just gently smiled at him, wordlessly accepting the gesture. He fell into step behind her as she moved through the barren service tunnel.

It wasn't until she was in the car and Gris Gris pulled away from the manor that she finally allowed herself to let go of the breath she'd been holding. Rogue couldn't believe she'd been able to pull it off. Even afterward, she believed that it was all a ruse to get her guard down and attack before she could leave the compound.

The drive back to the LeBeau Manor seemed even shorter than the journey away from it. She'd been lost in her thoughts and next steps while Gris Gris had been content to let her be. What seemed like only a handful of minutes passed before they pulled up to the same spot Rogue had used earlier that morning.

"_Bonne chance, jeunes une_." Gris Gris turned around to give her the well-wish face to face.

"_Merci, ami_." Rogue answered in kind before slipping out of the backseat.

Just as she'd been able to sneak away from the manor, she slipped back into the expansive estate without anyone noticing. Unlike earlier, the lower level was ringing with silence. By the perfect state of the formal dining room, it was obvious she had missed breakfast. Her stomach rumbled at the memory that she hadn't eaten since the reception yesterday. Even then, she'd picked at her food. Maybe she could sneak some fruit out of the kitchen before heading back upstairs for more sleep.

Though the house was her home now, Rogue quietly toed through the main hall to the kitchen. Like the formal dining room, it had been spotlessly cleaned before being abandoned until lunch. Padding over the smooth marble floor, she opened the refrigerator to search for some grab and go items. Loading her arms up with a bottled water, an apple, and a couple fresh croissants, Rogue shut the door only to come face to face with Tante Mattie.

"Geez, ya scared the sh-" Rogue startled but Mattie quickly cut her off: "If'n ya say that filthy word in my kitchen, I'mma wash yo' mouth out wit' dat lye soap."

The older woman nodded toward the sink.

"Ah'm sorry, Tante." Rogue said, thoroughly admonished.

Mattie looked her up and down, her arms folded over her chest. Giving Rogue the hard eye she had at the reception, the set of her mouth and cocked hip screamed '_mhmm, I know where ya been de last few hours and it ain't been here_'. After a moment of Rogue squirming under her scrutiny, Mattie finally uncrossed her arms.

With a light scolding, she said: "Breakfast is promptly served at eight every mornin'. For de whole family."

Her command was clear. It was expected that Rogue would be present at the table with her new relatives. She doubted even Remy went against Mattie's schedule, dragging himself out of bed regardless of what time he went to sleep.

"Yes, ma'am." Rogue was careful to make her tone respectful, not sarcastic.

"Expectin' supper and dinner ta be the same." Mattie continued, waiting for another promise.

Again, Rogue respectfully answered, "Wouldn't think otherwise, Tante."

Mattie gave her another hard look before nodding in satisfaction. Her newest ward wouldn't miss another meal. Turning to leave the room, her parting words were: "Don'chu go fillin' up on anythin' more than that and ruin yo' appetite, _chile_."

"Yes, Tante." Rogue didn't even get a chance to respond before the mother figure was already out the kitchen and down the hall.

With a quick glance at the clock, Rogue figured she had about two hours to fit in a quick nap. She had no doubt that after inhaling the food she'd be out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

**(X)**

_Foutaise_ – crap

_Et vous êtes une salope_! – And you're a bitch

_Vous allez vous faire foutre_? _– _Would you please fuck off ?

_Demoiselle_ – young woman

_Bonne chance, jeunes une_. – Good luck, young one


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N & Thanks** to **Jean1** who pointed out a couple things that I thought I had made clear in an earlier chapter but apparently didn't. Just because Tante Mattie gave her approval of Rogue at the reception doesn't mean the other thieves readily accepted her. Tante has always been portrayed in the comics as having a sixth sense. She senses what's going on with Rogue, though she doesn't know the details. Her interaction with Rogue was just a signal to the other thieves that she can be trusted unlike any previous assassin. That's not to say she's earned a blind faith, but rather she's not going to stab anyone in the back while they sleep. Being presented with their sworn enemy in their midst was a worrisome topic for most thieves. Only the higher ranking thieves would actually interact with her since she's in the same main house as they are. So the lower thieves were able to relax more readily than the others. As for specific characters, I'll let this chapter describe their motives.

Thanks again **Jean1** for the observation! It's bad on me that I didn't make that evident sooner.

**Chapter 7**

Early morning sunlight slowly roused Rogue into wakefulness. The brightness glowed warm orange behind her still closed lids. She lay motionless for a moment, trying turn off her mind for a little more sleep. After only a few seconds, it was obvious she was awake for the day. Opening her eyes, she slowly stretched before looking at her phone. _7:47_. There wasn't a lot of time to get ready if she was going to make it to breakfast.

Rogue slowly sat up, letting the covers fall from her shoulders to pool at her waist. After the incident with her chemise the previous night, she'd worn a t-shirt and boy shorts to bed. Not that it mattered. She hadn't seen Remy at all yesterday except at lunch and dinner. And he hadn't come to bed last night.

A quick glance around the room showed that he hadn't been there at all. Though she had no clue where he'd slept, she knew he had to have been somewhere in the house. The peace treaty was too important, if not to him specifically then to the thieves in general. And if nothing else, Jean-Luc wouldn't let Remy jeopardize it.

Climbing out of bed and quickly making it, she rushed through brushing her hair and teeth before tossing on a pair of yoga pants, a long sleeved shirt, and her ever present gloves. Having missed her first breakfast at the LeBeau Manor, Rogue wasn't entirely sure what would be acceptable and what would be considered sloppy. She decided to slip into a pair of deck shoes just in case.

As she ventured out of Remy's room, the third floor was quiet. By the time she got down to the second floor, the noises of a full house started to reach her ears. From the blueprints she'd memorized, she knew there was a family dining room on this floor. It was supposed to be a less formal, private area. Since it was still in the main house, it must have been used for the other members of the Thieves Council. They would be part of the inner circle but not LeBeaus.

Skipping down the last flight of stairs, she rounded the corner into the main hall and took the few steps to the dining room's entrance. Surprised to see the whole family (except for Remy) already there, Rogue silently took a seat in the middle of the table. Henri and Mercy were engaged in a quiet conversation while Jean-Luc was engrossed in something on his tablet.

Rogue's shoulders slumped a little as she stared at the perfectly fine white china plate set in front of her. She maybe earned Tante's approval at the reception, but she was still an outsider.

From the little bit of wandering she did yesterday, it was clear Emil was the clown of the family. He hadn't met a single person he didn't like, so his eagerness to make her feel welcome was just his personality. And she didn't know what to think of Etienne at all. He'd only shyly approached her the one time at the reception, unlike his older brother Theoren who hadn't even been introduced to her yet.

Neither Henri nor Mercy had purposely avoided her like Remy did, but they also didn't seek her out. It made her believe that Henri's kindness in the cathedral's chapterhouse was more out of irritation with his brother's lack of manners than any affinity toward her. And Rogue suddenly started second-guessing Mercy's invitation to go shopping. Had it been a proper Southern lady's ploy to get gossip?

Jean-Luc had been locked away in his office most of the day along with Remy's uncles and other council members. Not that Rogue expected any great relationship to be forged with her new father-in-law or other relatives.

Although, she did learn she was one of the only females in the main house. Belize's wife had died shortly after Etienne was born. And Gustave's marriage ended in divorce since she had come from outside of the Guild and didn't understand its ways. Jean-Luc's wife had been murdered during one of the more bloody bouts between Guilds. Overall, the record didn't bode well for her or Mercy.

As for Tante Mattie, well she had an agenda of her own most days. She came and went as she pleased, working on things only a fellow _traiteur_ would understand. The only time it was guaranteed she would be at the manor was right before meals. Cooking was her release and the LeBeaus were her family.

"_Bon matin, belle-fille_." Jean-Luc greeted, not bothering to look up from his tablet.

His words startled her out of the over-analyzing going on in her head. For a moment, she fought for a response before meekly answering, _"Bon matin…_"

Rogue stumbled, not knowing what to call him. Marius was very strict about how she was to address him. She somehow thought Jean-Luc wasn't the same way, but it would seem weird to call him _M. LeBeau_. And he hadn't given her permission to call him by his first name.

Pushing the tablet aside, he finally looked up at her. His face was expressionless as he said: "Everyone at this table calls me _père_. I suspect it'd be no different for y'."

The observation was awkward. It wasn't a warm and gentle welcome, but rather an unfeeling matter of fact statement. Yet again, Rogue was reminded of her place.

Mustering up the corner of her mouth, she sadly smiled as she met his gaze and whispered, "_Bon matin, père." _

A scoffing noise broke their locked eyes as Remy took the seat between her and Jean-Luc. He was freshly showered, shaved, and dressed in clean clothes. Considering how late she woke up, there'd been no time for him to sneak back into the suite without running into her. He must have showered in the training facility, though where he got the extra change of clothes she didn't know.

"Somethin' de matter, _garçon_?" Jean-Luc prompted as Remy settled.

"_Non, père." _He placed extra emphasis on the last word, as if throwing it back in Rogue's face that she wasn't really entitled to the endearment after all.

Jean-Luc's mouth set in a slight grimace as he let out an irritated huff, but he said nothing further to his youngest son. Before the situation could grow any more uncomfortable, Tante bustled out of the kitchen with several serving dishes.

"Beautiful day de Good Lord blessed us wit'." The older woman said as she set down the overfilled plates.

A round of 'good mornings' chorused in return to her greeting. Not wanting to incur another lecture, Rogue mumbled a late 'good morning' too.

With the first two plates down, the smell of scratch made biscuits and white gravy wafted to Rogue's nostrils. Her tummy grumbled at the delicious aroma. Tante's now freed hand placed the next two down: eggs and sausage. Various juices, milk, coffee, and tea were already prepared on the table.

Waiting for Tante to take a seat before digging in was almost torture for Rogue. She hadn't had a meal like this since Aunt Carrie had taken care of her. Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let anything more than the glistening sheen give away her feelings.

As Tante took the seat opposite of Jean-Luc's at the head of the table, it was like an unspoken rule to bow their heads. Following their lead, Rogue listened to the blessing Tante said. With the group chiming an 'amen' at the end, Remy dug into the food.

He filled his plate three times as high as Rogue would have expected. How anyone as fit as he was could eat that much, she had no clue. It must have to do with his mutation. Everyone else tackled the meal as well, although much more dignified than Remy had.

Small talk broke out amongst them: plans for the day, tasks that needed to be handled, reminders of things that had been forgotten. It wasn't anything spectacular, but Rogue still felt out of place. Instead, she opted to observe the others as she worked on her own plate.

Jean-Luc ate all of one thing before turning his plate to put the next thing in front of him. Henri loaded a little bit of everything up on his fork before taking a bite. Mercy always took three bites before sipping first from her coffee, then from a glass of orange juice. Tante Mattie served herself some eggs and sausage, cleared her plate, then loaded it up with biscuits and gravy. And Remy, well he just kind of shoveled everything like a kid who was told he couldn't go outside to play until he cleaned his plate. At least he was well mannered about it and not a pig.

As the meal came to a close, everyone thanked Tante for yet another delicious meal. Remy even got up to give her a kiss on the top of her head before darting out through the kitchen. When only she and Tante remained, Rogue reluctantly slid her chair back.

"Thank ya for breakfast, Tante. It really was delicious." She said with heartfelt truth.

Tante stood, coming to Rogue's side and placing a hand on her covered forearm. "De hardest thing ta wait out is time. Ya can't rush it and ya can't slow it down. Ya just have t' let it take its own course."

She gave Rogue a final pat before working to clear the table. The words were cryptic and not at all what Rogue had expected in return for the compliment. Her brows knitted together as she wandered out of the dining room and smack into Etienne.

"Ah'm so sorry!" Rogue immediately apologized, not even bothering to take notice of whom she ran into. "Ah wasn't lookin' where Ah was goin'!"

"_C'est bon_. Actually, I was lookin' for y'." He reached his hands out to help her keep balance.

"Ya were?" She skeptically searched his face.

The tips of his ears pinked a bit as he looked down. "_Ouais_, I was wonderin' if Remy had given y' the grand tour yet."

A smile tugged at Rogue's lips as she saw how nervous Etienne had grown. It was like he was asking her to prom instead of just showing her around her new home.

Tamping down the urge to giggle at how cute it was, she answered, "No. Remy's kinda…" She searched for the right words that wouldn't insult his cousin but get her point across as well. "Let's just say we still lead really different lives."

The description seemed to work. Either that or Etienne was oblivious to what had really been going on. His eyes met hers briefly for a moment before darting away as he ran a hand through his short blond hair.

"Well, um, I could show y' 'round. That is if yo' interested." He cleared his throat.

"Sure. Ah'd like that." Rogue smiled at him in friendship, pretending she didn't already know the layout of the compound.

"Y' would?" Etienne looked up in surprise. "Um, _ouais, bien sûr. _We can start outside. Y've seen upstairs and that's all just bedrooms anyway."

"Will ya show me around the second floor though?" Rogue asked. She'd yet to really explore it. "Ah know there's a dining room up there. Is that where y'all eat?"

"_Ouais_," He cleared his throat again. "_Oui_. I can, um, I can show y' my room too, if y' like."

"Lead ahead, tour guide!" Rogue smiled again and gestured toward the stairs.

They climbed the single flight of stairs and headed down the rightmost hallway to where the informal dining room was located. Unlike the room downstairs, this one was cozy, intimate. The private atmosphere seemed more suitable for a loving family than the stiff, formalities she'd experienced earlier. How she'd love to be a part of this room's family. Even life with Aunt Carrie couldn't compare.

There was a warm latte color on the walls surrounding a roughhewn table with matching chairs. Recessed lighting edged the corners of the rooms instead of a grand crystal chandelier. And two candelabras on the table provided additional light when the tall tapers were lit. Rogue wished she could take her meals in here instead of downstairs with the LeBeaus.

"It's just a plain dining room. Nothin' fancy." Etienne observed, unintentionally breaking her out of her reverie.

"It's homey though." Rogue wistfully sighed. "How d'ya get yer food up here? There's not another kitchen is there?"

"Tante has help in de kitchen downstairs. Even though she likes t' cook, there's too many of us for her t' handle everyone. She decides de meals and sets de recipes, but a couple other chefs fix food for de rest of us." He explained.

"Oh." She said, distracted as she moved around the room.

Etienne stayed in the doorway, nonplussed since he ate there every day. He didn't understand her fascination. This was the only life he'd ever known. This was how he grew up, surrounded by close friends and family. He knew the assassins weren't the warmest, cuddliest bunch, but surely she'd at least have been close to Marius, Julien, and Belle, wouldn't she?

Not knowing how to steer her toward the next room, he tentatively said: "Um, my room's down de hall…"

"Right." Rogue crossed the room back to him, a sad smile tried to brighten her face.

They left the dining room and followed the hall down to a T juncture. From there, Etienne swung a left and stood in front of the fourth door down.

"It's clean. Tante would have a fit if de staff saw it dirty. It's just nothin' compared t' Remy's room." Etienne's ears pinked again, only Rogue got the impression it was from being ashamed instead of embarrassed.

"That's okay." She tried to set him at ease. "My room back at home was small and plain too."

Her assurance did the trick as Etienne opened the door. "Really? I figured an Assassin Princess would be surrounded by opulence."

"Hmmm." Rogue answered, unwilling to admit the difference in treatment between her and Belle.

As she stepped through the door, Etienne had been right. The room was small, just enough space for a full bed, nightstand, and a dresser. Another door was in the corner, but she figured it had to be a closet. There just wasn't enough space for a full bathroom.

As if sensing her thoughts, he supplied, "There's a communal shower down de hall. _Mon frère, mon cousin, et l'un des fils du conseil_, we all share."

"Sounds nice." Rogue absently observed, still taking in the pale sea blues and whites of the room's décor. Even this room was better than what she'd had growing up.

"Sharin' a bathroom wit' _trois autre_ _hommes_? It's not, trust me." Etienne finally relaxed.

Realizing what she'd said, Rogue looked back at him and laughed a little. "No, Ah s'pose not. Guess Ah lost my head there for a second. Can ya show me the first floor? Not where the dining room is, but the one below it."

Being so close to the river and considering that New Orleans was below sea level, it wasn't practical to build basements. So instead, the "first floor" of the manor was built above ground but completely sealed off from exterior access. There were no windows or doors. It made the three stories that were built above it look like they were sitting on a giant cinder platform. The setup also served the dual purpose of hiding the thieves' innermost workings, just like the rounded audience chamber in the assassin headquarters. And it secluded the virtually unbreakable vault. In a house full of master thieves, Rogue was sure one if not more of them could crack it.

"Well…" Etienne stalled, "I can show y' around it. But a lot of it's off limits."

He didn't need to elaborate for Rogue to pick up that it was only restricted for outsiders like herself. It didn't matter though. What Etienne was doing for her today was more than anyone else had done since she'd arrived. And she was willing to take whatever she could get.

"That's okay. Show me what ya can." Rogue agreed, trying to keep the good nature between them.

Etienne led her back out of his room before shutting the door behind him. They followed the same path downstairs as they had going up. Once on the first floor, he took her down the short, empty hall behind the stairs. Anyone unfamiliar with the house would think it was just a sitting area created to open up the main hall. But Rogue knew the layout and the recessed panels decorating the bottom of the staircase actually slid away to reveal a secondary set of stairs.

Etienne pressed the false square in the wainscoting that activated the recessed door. As the panel slid away, he stepped down first. Rogue rushed to follow before the door slid back into place. The black wrought iron spiral staircase wound down into another hall that was just as luxurious as the rest of the house. At the end was a beautiful floor to ceiling mural depicting the various boats used in 1850s river life, complete with the _Belle of Orleans _paddlewheel.

"D'ya mind if Ah take a closer look at the mural? It looks beautiful from here." Rogue asked, striding down the hall without waiting for permission.

If the blueprints she had were correct, the vault was just behind it. She knew she couldn't get inside it. Even married into the family, she wouldn't be trusted with the secrets in the vault. And in all honesty, she could really care less what was in it. Just the curiosity of the unknown was the intriguing part.

As she walked down the hall, she didn't really pay attention to the various other paintings and vases that adorned the windowless area. An oversized, intricately carved dark wood door with a hand for the knob did capture Rogue's interest though. It was open enough that she could see into the room. Remy, Henri, and Theoren were sitting on one side of a large desk while Jean-Luc reclined behind it.

"There's too much activity around de location. Y' gon' need a lookout." She overheard Remy point out.

"But more than a _deux homme _crew will draw too much attention." Henri countered.

Rogue lingered, curious about the inner workings of the thieves. The assassins operated so differently. A contract was accepted and the best assassin for the job was assigned. There was no debate or collaboration on the best course of action. It simply was commanded.

"We shouldn't be outside _Noncle Jean-Luc's _office like this." Etienne quietly admonished as he finally caught up with her.

Even though he'd whispered, the stillness surrounding them made it seem as though he'd shouted. Immediately recognizing his brother's voice, Theoren stormed over to the open door.

Before slamming it in her face, he seethed at his brother: "_Retirez ces ordures assassin des affaires voleurs_."

Rogue gave a short, sardonic laugh. If anyone was the epitome of a thief, it was she.

"C'mon, we should prob'ly leave." Etienne reached out for her covered elbow.

The slight contact startled her and on instinct, she pulled away. Rogue wasn't used to people willingly touching her. And keeping the control over her mutation a secret had meant that she still had to react as if she was untouchable. It was an ingrained response.

"_Je suis désolé_. I didn't mean…" Etienne scrambled at her negative reaction.

"It's okay. It's my fault. People don't usually touch me." Rogue tried to set him at ease.

"_Ouais_, I heard 'bout that." He looked down as he started back toward the staircase. "Not that he'll admit it, but Remy used t' have trouble touchin' stuff too. His mutation got out of hand for a while and he couldn't touch anythin' wit'out it blowin' up. Took him forever t' get it under control, but he did it. I'm sure y' will too."

Rogue smiled softly at his encouragement. "Yeah."

Because of the position of the staircase, she hadn't seen the door directly to the left of the spiral. Jogging over to it, she ran her hands along the smooth steel surface. The blueprints had shown this room, but no one with the assassins knew what was inside it.

"Hey, what's behind this door?" She asked.

"Oh that? That's de master thieves' trainin' room. It's more specialized than de bigger training facility." Etienne answered.

"Can we go inside?" Rogue pushed, wanting to see what made it so unique.

"Um…" He paused, unsure how much he was allowed to show her. "Maybe y' should ask _Noncle Jean-Luc_ first. We really need t' get upstairs now."

"Okay." Rogue reluctantly agreed. She didn't want to get the only person who'd been genuinely friendly to her in any trouble.

"Have y' been t' de gardens yet?" Etienne reached out for her gloved hand again. This time, she wrapped hers up in his as she allowed him to lead her back upstairs.

"No. Ah've only seen them from the upstairs window." Rogue confessed. They moved swiftly through the main hall before entering the kitchen.

Etienne's face lit up with a smile as he pushed open the kitchen's back door. "It's one of my favorite places. Y' can almost get lost in it if y' find de right spot."

Stepping out into the bright sunshine, Rogue's breath whooshed out of her lungs as she took in the burbling fountain, neatly manicured trees, and blossom lined pathways. Last night she'd noticed that the palms and dogwoods even had little twinkling lights along their trunks or branches. Benches were intermittently placed to allow a casual stroller the opportunity to sit, relax, and enjoy the surrounding beauty.

As Etienne led her further into the garden, the perfectly arranged setting gave way to a wilder, free growing area. Weeping willows dipped their drooping branches into a pond. A little arching bridge spanned the water, allowing access to a tiny island in the middle where a few bunnies hopped. Rogue could even see the occasional bubbles where stocked fish rose to the surface for a late morning snack. The entire space was so peaceful she felt like she could get lost in it forever.

Pulling her hand out of his, she ran across the bridge to discover the willow on the other side was surrounded by a stone planter bench seat. Rogue sat down and lifted her face, soaking in the sun that filtered through the wispy branches.

"This is my favorite spot too. Unless someone actually comes over de bridge, no one can see y'." Etienne said as he sat down next to her.

The sunlight danced in her snowy auburn hair, picking up the shiny ruby and platinum highlights. With her eyes closed, she missed Etienne moving closer until his fingers grazed one of her white locks. Her eyes flew open as she jerked away from him.

"_Je suis désolé_. I've just never seen anyone with hair like yo's." Etienne apologized. This time, his cheeks flamed red along with his ears.

"Oh." Rogue hesitantly answered. "Well, Ah've had 'em for as long as Ah can remember."

She didn't relax completely as she had a moment before. Etienne hadn't been trying anything. At least she didn't believe he had. Just the little bit he spoke about Remy made it clear he hero-worshipped his cousin quite a bit. That kind of loyalty didn't breed covetousness. Still, she felt like maybe he was being a little too touchy-feely. It was refreshing to have someone willingly reach out to her, but she would have to give that up to discourage any further advances, platonic or amorous. Rogue didn't want to give anyone any ideas that she wasn't holding up her end of the treaty as well.

Sensing the change in mood, Etienne stood up.

"I s'pose I should get goin'. Just 'cause we're all independently wealthy don't mean we sit 'round doin' nothin' all day." He winked at her.

The awkwardness fell away to the easiness they'd shared all morning.

"Ya don't? Here bust my illusions of y'all bein' gentlemen of leisure." She smiled back.

"Do y' want me t' walk y' back up t' de main house?" Etienne asked.

"No." Rogue relaxed back and turned her face toward the sun again. "Ah think Ah'll stay out here a while longer."

"_Bien_." He paused, taking a last look at her before walking away. "See y' around, _cousine_."

"See ya." Rogue waved back, but he was already across the bridge again.

Well, at least she'd made one friend today. The other thieves may still view her as an outsider, but Etienne had made her feel like she wasn't an unwelcome houseguest who'd overstayed her visit. And he did show her this beautiful place. When things got rough, she could always sneak out here for a little peace.

Now if only she could figure out a way to leave all of this behind her. No more thieves, no more assassins, no more treaties. Just the freedom to live her life like she felt right now. That independence had always been something she'd longed for but could never achieve.

Sighing, Rogue accepted her reality and begrudgingly stood up. Liberty was a pipe dream. Her life had never been her own and as long as the Guilds were around, it never would be. Everyone seemed busy with their own tasks. Even Marius hadn't sent her details on a new contract. She supposed she should be grateful for the time off. But having spent the last nineteen years of her life in training, she wasn't one who could idly sit by and waste away the day. Strolling back over the bridge, she decided to try to find some way to keep herself occupied until someone remembered she was still a tool that could be used.

**(X)**

_Belle-fille _– daughter-in-law

_C'est bon _– It's okay

_Mon frère, mon cousin, et l'un des fils du conseil – _my brother, my cousin, and a council member's son

_trois autre_ _hommes _– three other men

_Noncle _– Cajun for uncle

_Retirez ces ordures assassin des affaires voleurs_. _– _Remove this assassin garbage from thieves' business.


	9. Chapter 8

**Thanks** to **cerrenous, jess, NanamiYatsumaki, couplest, RRL24, anlmoon, Demon Flame, Warrior-princess1980,** and all the anonymous readers, reviewers, and followers. Your interest has blown up into more than I thought this little muse worm would turn out!

**Chapter 8**

Rogue's heart pounded in her chest as she thought about what she wanted to ask, the peach smothered pancakes on her plate no longer appetizing. Every time she'd ever asked Marius for something, he'd always been quick to deny it unless it would make her more useful to him. Eventually, she learned to stop asking. She knew Jean-Luc wasn't Marius, but she didn't know how he'd feel about an assassin training in the thieves' facilities.

When she'd come down to breakfast this morning, she was confident in her request. But everyone was already there by the time she'd arrived. The scene was so much different than the previous day. Where Henri and Mercy were quietly speaking to each other yesterday, today they each were engaged in different, lively conversations. Mercy and Tante talked about the latest round of fresh fruits and vegetables from the new farmers market they'd discovered. And nearby, Henri and Remy debated Saints' rookies at NFL training camp as Jean-Luc threw in his two cents.

"_Vous couillon!" _Henri's voice rose in volume as he good-naturedly aggravated his brother. "Only an _idiot_ would think Jackson's gon' break Rogers' record for rushin' yards in a single game. I don't care if he does hold Miami's all time record."

Remy quickly fired back. "_Idiot? Frère_, yo' de _couillon_ if y' think Jackson ain't gon' blow 'em all away this season."

Tante's eyebrow rose at the other end of the table as she heard their antagonizing. Before she could scold them for their rowdiness, Jean-Luc intervened with a warning: "_Garçons. _Everybody knows that it don't matter which third string rookie rushes for how many yards when de best offensive team in de NFL reports t' camp next week and ain't gon' even give 'em a chance t' play."

Both boys looked over to their father. Remy's eyebrow rose as he peeked over at his brother from the corner of his eye. A sly smirk tugged at the corner of Henri's mouth.

"Those sound like bettin' words, _père_." Remy said, hiding behind his best poker face.

"_Fil_, how many times do y' have t' have it beat int' that thick skull o' yo's that confidence is not de same as cockiness." A twinkle sparkled in Jean-Luc's otherwise straight face.

"Now _père_, that seems like avoidance t' me. I think maybe y' should put yo' money where yo' mouth is." Henri baited.

"There's no amount y' _garçons_ can bet that would interest me when I win." Jean-Luc innocently commented as he loaded his fork up with another bite.

"Then de wager has t' be somethin' other than a monetary value." Remy countered.

Jean-Luc glanced at his sons. Rogue could tell this was a trap they'd tried to set for him before, but that sparkle was still in his eyes and she knew he never fell for it. In fact, she'd be willing to add to the bet that not only did he never lose, the boys ended up the worse for wear.

"_Ça va._" Jean-Luc agreed as he finished chewing. Swiping his napkin across his lips, he returned the cloth to his lap before he continued. "When I win, y' both have t' take on _cinq _assignations, _deux_ clenches, and _un contre-temps. _Each. _Et bien sûr,_ wit'out takin' any shares."

Rogue knew a little of the lingo, so she understood assignations were just the meetings that initiated a contract. They were usually reserved for lower ranking thieves who hadn't earned their mastery yet. And clenches had to do with robbing a place at a specifically arranged time. Though she didn't know what a _contre-temps_ was, the French translation was 'against time'. She could only assume it meant a difficult heist that had to occur within a limited time frame, maybe even something that only allowed one shot at the item.

Overall, it sounded like Jean-Luc's wager was for menial tasks below their skill set, two easy but time consuming thefts, and a very difficult job that required their mastery but wouldn't result in any payout. It was a gamble she would take only if she knew she would win hands down.

"That's all well and good, _père_. But as y' said, there's nothin' y' can give us in return when we win." Henri partially agreed to the bet. "Besides, de whole offensive team against Rogers' record ain't comparable."

"_Très bien_. Ingram is a li'l less than half way t' Rogers' record of 1674. He rushed 602 yards last season. I _know_ he can at least match that if not beat it this year and leave Jackson on de bench." Jean-Luc firmed up the terms.

"Alright boys, no cheatin' here." Mercy abruptly stopped her conversation with Tante. "I'll be official bookie t' keep all of y' honest. Remy bets that Jackson will beat Rogers' record. Jean-Luc thinks he won't because Ingram will beat or match his own record from last year. And Henri thinks neither will happen. Right?"

The three men looked stunned at Mercy before exchanging glances with each other. They hadn't even realized Henri's wife had been paying any attention, but she'd managed to capture their entire conversation in a few sentences.

"_Je t'aime, ma chérie!_" Henri exclaimed, planting a big kiss on his wife's cheek.

Without skipping a beat, she continued with the rundown. "If de boys lose, they have t' take on jobs of _père's _choosin' wit'out takin' a share. If de boys win," She paused for dramatic effect. "They get de Aston Martin DP/216/1 DB5 that's sittin' down in de vault."

A shocked silence ensued while Rogue gave a low whistle. The chassis was the original to the very first Bond car used in _Goldfinger_. It had been the DB5 prototype and the one suped up with the weaponry and gadgetry that became typical of a Bond car. Aston Martin had stripped it, resold it, and it had been retrofitted with non-original weaponry by the new owner. The famous luxury grand tourer had been mysteriously stolen in 1997 from its last owner in Florida and had yet to be recovered.

When Rogue realized all eyes were on her, she quietly added: "Ah watched a lot of movies when Ah wasn't trainin'. Q and the cars were always my favorite parts about Bond. Shoulda known y'all were behind its disappearance."

"Hmm…" Jean-Luc thoughtfully appraised her. She forced herself not to squirm under his scrutiny, but felt like she'd just earned a tiny bit of his respect. Maybe he was a Bondophile, too.

Turning his attention back to the others, he immediately dismissed the second half of the bargain. "De DB5 is not an option."

"C'mon, _père." _Remy connived, picking up right where Mercy had left off. "If yo' so sure yo' gon' win, then de DB5 is perfectly safe."

If Rogue didn't know any better, she'd swear Mercy had been in on this scheme the whole time. Peeking over at the other woman though, she only saw her innocently finishing up her breakfast.

"_D'accord_. But y' both best be prepared t' spend next winter doin' chores." Jean-Luc begrudgingly agreed with the apt description of his side of the wager.

"Now that de boy's business is taken care of, Rogue are y' free t' go shoppin' t'day?" Mercy asked as she dabbed her napkin across her mouth.

Rogue was taken aback by the offer. Of course they'd planned it at the reception a few days ago, but she thought Henri's wife was just being polite when he brought her over to introduce them. She hadn't honestly expected Mercy to follow up on the offer.

"Um…yeah. Ah'm free today." Rogue tentatively answered.

Mercy's answering smile showed nothing but honest friendship. "_Bon!_ We can leave right after breakfast."

"Okay." Rogue gave a small smile and turned back to her plate.

It's not like she had anything better to do with her time. Actually, that reminded her about what she had been so intent on asking.

Turning to Jean-Luc, she hesitantly started with, "_Père?"_ the name still uncomfortable for her.

"_Oui, fille_?" He responded, still working through his breakfast.

"Would ya mind if Ah trained in the facility?" She asked, looking at a spot in his smooth long hair instead of directly into his eyes.

"I don't see why not. It's awfully busy wit' de other thieves in there, but y' might find some time late at night if y' want semi-privacy." He said before popping his fully loaded fork in his mouth.

"Actually," Rogue turned back to her food. "Ah was hopin' Ah could train in the one downstairs."

At this, Jean-Luc relaxed back in his chair. That same critical look he'd given her so many times before kept his face completely unreadable. But the twinkle he'd held for his sons just moments earlier shined in his eyes now.

"Y' can't seriously be considerin' this, _père._" Remy cried, the indignation ringing in his voice.

Jean-Luc gave a hard glare to Remy's snotty attitude. "And why not? She is a master assassin after all. Why not give her a taste of a master thief's trainin'?"

"Because she's not earned it like de rest of us!" He answered without thinking twice.

Jean-Luc was about to rebuke his son again, but Rogue beat him to the chase. She could defend herself just fine. "Oh, Ah've earned it alright. And Ah'd be willin' ta bet Ah worked ten times harder at it than _you_ did. Nothin' was granted ta me without havin' ta sacrifice somethin' in return."

Her eyes flashed, challenging him to prove otherwise. Remy met her glare, mumbling under his breath a "we'll see". Rogue just let it go as he finished his breakfast on a sulk.

Regaining control over the conversation, Jean-Luc gave her one stipulation. "I see no problem wit' yo' request, but I want one of de other master thieves wit' y' at all times while yo' down in de lower level."

"Yes sir." Rogue answered with respect.

With the matter settled, Mercy and Tante finished up their conversation about the farmers market while Henri and Jean-Luc switched to the NBA draft. Remy continued in his sullen mood next to Rogue who once again felt like an observer instead of family member. It wasn't too much longer before plates were cleared and chairs scraped back.

"Rogue, I'll meet y' down here in thirty? Is that enough time t' get ready?" Mercy asked.

"Yeah, that's fine." Rogue agreed as her sister-in-law led her out of the room and up the stairs.

**(X)-(X)-(X)**

"She's a li'l weird, ain't she?" Mercy's friend Sabine quietly mumbled as if the woman standing ten feet away in the noisy store might overhear her.

"Hmm?" Mercy looked up from the new purse she was considering and glanced over at Rogue.

Remy's wife was listlessly wandering through the Garden District boutique, touching several items but never putting anything in her basket. Mercy's heart ached for the young woman. Her background was a mystery. Henri had given her little detail about the interview with the Archbishop after the wedding ceremony, so she could only imagine how Marius had hooked the poor girl into the substitute wife role. And Rogue was very tight lipped about her life growing up as Marius' second, adopted daughter. Looking at her now, it was clear she hadn't been surrounded by the lap of luxury like Bella Donna had.

"I think she's just been sheltered." Mercy tried to defend her new sister-in-law.

Sabine wasn't part of the New Orleans Guilds. She was a friend Mercy had met long before she'd ever crossed paths with Henri. And with as few women as there were in the thieves, Mercy kept her friends from her old life as close as possible. But it also meant keeping a lot of secrets.

"I thought Remy was gon' marry that Beatrix woman." Her tall, brunette friend commented, moving down the line to the next purse but keeping Rogue in sight.

"It's Bella Donna. And thank de Lord he didn't." Mercy said, rolling her eyes heavenward.

"Not one of her fans, _hein_?" Sabine gave up on the purses to look at watches instead.

Mercy saw Rogue run her fingers down a necklace, surreptitiously turning the tag to look at the price. They'd split up as soon as they entered the store. Sabine slowly wandered back to Mercy, leaving Rogue on her own yet again. A sour look crossed Rogue's face as she put the necklace back.

"Not at all." Mercy off-handedly remarked.

"So what? Did he just meet this 'Rogue' and fall madly in love enough t' dump de other _femme_? Marryin' her this soon is fast even for him." The brunette tried a delicate watch on her lithe wrist.

Sabine knew the basic LeBeau family dynamic. She was aware of Remy's playboy ways and even had had a little crush on him when they met at Henri and Mercy's wedding a few years ago, but nothing came of it. Still, any news about Mercy's family was gossip worthy to Sabine.

Mercy abandoned watching Rogue and turned back to the clutch in her hand. "Or somethin', _ouais_."

Even if she knew the details of the marriage, it would qualify as Guild secrets and she couldn't share them anyway.

Sabine just shrugged and moved off to another section of the boutique. Mercy observed Rogue for a few minutes more before deciding to leave the purses and make her sister-in-law feel more welcome. They'd hit a few stores before stopping at a sidewalk bistro for a bite. Even though both Mercy and Sabine had tried to draw her out with small talk, Rogue's answers had been short and closed off. And she'd quickly gone off on her own when they arrived at a new shop.

Mercy quietly walked over to where Rogue continued to browse. "Did y' get Remy's black AmEx before we left?"

Her appearance startled Rogue. "Huh? Oh, um, no. Was I s'pose ta?"

Rogue tried not to be insulted by Mercy's comment. She hadn't said it to imply Rogue was poor compared to the thieves' wealth, but she'd already felt like a third wheel all day. It was hard not to look at the little things in a negative light.

A kind smile tugged at Mercy's mouth. "Well it does make shoppin' more fun t' spend their money instead a' ours. I'll let y' borrow Henri's 'til y' get Remy's."

Instead of being excited by the offer like Mercy thought, Rogue politely declined. "That's really nice of ya, but Ah couldn't. Ah can use my own money."

It was clear the prices in here must have freaked her out. Marius probably kept her on a very tight leash. Mercy doubted very much that Rogue had many opportunities to shop, unlike Bella Donna. And even if she did, it was probably for useful things like training gear. Frivolities were no doubt considered wasted on her.

"Y' know what? I think y' should redecorate yo' room." Mercy changed the subject.

"What?" Rogue's eyes widened at the suggestion.

Remy would flip if she changed anything. Though he'd never given her an 'official' rule, he'd mentioned it during the limo ride after the reception. She wasn't going to come in and change his life any.

"_Ouais_. Remy's had it all dark and broody and masculine for years. It's yo' room now, too. Y' should feel just as comfortable in it as he does. C'mon, I know just de place we can go." Without a second thought, Mercy waved Sabine over as she looped her arm through Rogue's covered one.

"Sabine?" Mercy raised her voice to get her friend's attention. "We're gon' down t' Magnolia's."

"Really? Well, I think I'm gon' call it quits for de day. It was really nice t' meet y', Rogue." Sabine held her hand out to shake Rogue's glove covered one. "Maybe we can do this again sometime soon."

Her careful smile didn't set Rogue at ease that she'd made a friend today. "Yeah, sure."

Sabine left them with a little wave as they exited the boutique. Alone with Rogue, Mercy tried to make her feel more comfortable.

"Y' got t' be really careful wit' Remy. Too much change and he'll freak out. He prob'ly will anyway, but he can deal wit' a li'l of it. Just don't go too floral or pastel. He'll only sulk then. Like we haven't seen enough of that recently, _hein_?" Mercy elbowed Rogue a little at her joke.

Rogue let out a relieved "yeah." Mercy's confirmation of Remy's crappy attitude made her feel for the first time like she wasn't some wicked person who ruined their entire happy family.

They'd only walked down two stores before they came upon Magnolia's. The window display looked inordinately expensive, but Rogue doubted Mercy was going to let her off without spending a small fortune.

"Y' prob'ly should leave the wall color alone for now. So y'll have t' pick somethin' that coordinates wit' that dark burgundy paint. But I'm sure y' can find somethin' here that's not too feminine wit'out addin' more t' his 'man cave'." Mercy gave her a quick wink. "I've got t' pick up somethin' for my room too, so I'll just be over in de towels if y' need me."

Rogue stood in Mercy's wake, watching her saunter over to the other side of the store as she browsed along the way.

Turning to the linens, Rogue thought about the task at hand. Remy's room wasn't horrible, but it did have a very masculine feel to it. While she could have lived with the burnished gold satin duvet cover, it definitely wasn't her first choice. And Mercy's idea to change things up seemed like it would put her in a less stressful environment.

Looking at the array of sheets, she grabbed the first white set that was in reach. Remy couldn't get too pissed off about white, could he? If he did, maybe Mercy could help mitigate the disaster some. Rogue switched to the down comforters, fantasizing over the big, fluffy hotel quality linens she'd only experienced on a few occasions.

"They're nice, _hein_?" Mercy sidled up next to her. "But Remy's a hot sleeper. He'll roast if y' get that. That's why he has that duvet. It's coverin' up a nasty, ratty old quilt he had as a kid. Y' best go wit' somethin' like this."

Mercy pulled down a stone gray and Prussian blue sateen quilt set complete with shams and some decorative throw pillows.

"Now this will work just fine. Unless of course y' don't like de colors?" Mercy waited for Rogue's opinion, trying to draw her out.

Rogue paused for a moment, still feeling like she was on a shopping trip with a stranger. She wasn't that familiar with the female bonding past time in the first place since Marius kept her training more than anything else. And there were no friends or playmates growing up to go shopping with in the first place. So when she did go out, she always thought twice about what she purchased. Even though something was pretty, would she actually use it?

Having a little experience with Bella Donna's wasteful habits didn't help either. She had a horrible tendency to buy something simply for the sake of saying she owned a Prada or Louboutin rather than wearing it. Then the item would end up in the trash a week later as "being old". Her selfishness was one thing that made Bella Donna's personality so ugly. And Rogue had always sworn to never be like her.

"The color's fine." She finally got around to answering.

"_Bon_. Now for some sheets. What's that y' got there?" Mercy pulled the package away from Rogue's hand enough to see the front. "Plain white? Oh no, that won't do at all."

She set about scanning over all the various colors, fabrics, and patterns. "Here! I bought these last year. They're super soft and the pattern is light enough t' add some flare."

She tossed a set of 1200 thread count white sateen sheets with an opposing contrast jacquard pattern woven into circles and lines.

"And y' should always have a spare set just in case." Mercy gave her another wink, although Rogue was sure she and Remy would never need the extras for the reason she was implying. The second set was a perfect match to the stone color in the quilt.

"Now y' just need some new towels and a couple décor items and we're all set!" Mercy announced as she set off to find matching blue and gray pieces.

Rogue followed after, picking up a few odd and end pieces along the way. They each chose a couple of things before Mercy gave up and went to get a larger shopping cart. When she came back, Rogue put two night stand lamps into the buggy before moving down the aisle.

"Y' know, Remy can be a real ass," Mercy quietly started. "But it's his defense mechanism. Jean-Luc didn't adopt him until he was ten. He'd lived on de streets 'til then. That kind a' life'll eat y' alive. Trust me. I was on my own for a year after I turned sixteen before Henri found me."

Rogue patiently listened, already knowing the biographical information about all the LeBeaus. But she could feel the waves of emotion pouring off Mercy: regret, pain, despair. It made her realize for the first time that the family she'd married into also had its fair share of sacrifice and hardship. She wasn't the only one who'd been used and abused for other people's agendas.

"Remy has every right ta be mad." She admitted without a second thought.

"Oh, don't get me wrong. What Marius did was inexcusable. But Remy's a romantic at heart. When he hates, it's passionate. And when he loves, it's completely." Mercy paused to place a hand on Rogue's arm. "Despite what he may have said, he doesn't hate y'."

Rogue held her breath for a moment as she decided how much to say. Letting the air out on a big sigh, she said: "He should. Marius ain't the only one ta blame."

Mercy turned back to the trinkets on the shelves as a silence fell between them. Rogue started to squirm, thinking her confession may have revealed too much too soon. Before she could over think her decision, Mercy put her out of her misery.

"Whatever role y' played in this whole debacle, I'm glad yo' _ma belle-sœur_. And maybe one day we'll be more like _sœurs._" With the last, she looked over her shoulder and gave Rogue a hopeful but small smile.

When everything came to light, they'd all abandon her to Marius' death sentence. But Rogue couldn't bring herself to dash Mercy's hopes so soon. "Yeah. Maybe."

**(X)-(X)-(X)**

Rogue stood in the laundry room, carefully folding the new sheets that she'd bought with Mercy earlier in the day. She always washed new things before using them. And since she'd pretty much been on her own since Aunt Carrie's death, she'd learned to be self-sufficient. Not that the cleaning staff for the assassins had ever been available to her disposal.

"_Où la baise est-elle?"_ Remy's voice carried down the hall to Rogue long before he ever came into view. He passed by the laundry room that was just off the kitchen before grabbing the door jamb to double back.

"_C'est quoi ce bordel que tu as fait à _mon_ lit?"_ He shouted as he stormed over to her.

Rogue calmly folded the pillow case she had in her hand as she explained in a low voice, "Mercy and Ah bought new linens."

"I can see that! _Où diable sont mes affaires_?" Remy demanded.

"Washed, folded, and put away in yer closet upstairs." Rogue kept her cool, moving on to the next pillow case.

"Y' went in my closet, too!" From the corner of her eye, she could see his face turning bright red as he yelled into hers. "Y' had no right. It ain't yo' bed. It ain't yo' room. And it ain't yo' house."

Finally turning to him, she stared daggers as she said: "Yes. Ah know. Ya've made it abundantly clear on numerous occasions that Ah'm not welcome here."

Thinking he got his way, Remy backed off a little and folded his arms over his chest. "_Bon_. Y' finally gettin' it. I expect everythin' t' be back de way it was before t'night."

Rogue raised an eyebrow as she simply answered, "No."

"_Non? Non! Petite salope_-" He started, but she smoothly interrupted.

"That's right. Ah am a bitch. And Ah'm tired of bein' pushed around by the likes of ya. So if ya'd like ta keep on ignornin' each other like we've been doin' the last coupla days, then Ah suggest ya just high tail it on outta here. Otherwise, ya just might meet that bitch in person." Rogue crossed her arms over her chest and cocked a hip, her set expression daring him to challenge her.

As they stared each other down, Tante Mattie came into the room. "What's all this commotion gon' on back here?"

Having been on Tante's bad side before, Remy wisely backed away from Rogue. "Nothin', _Tante_. Just discussin' our new sheets."

"Don't sound like no '_discussion'_ I ever done heard. Sounds more like _deux chats_ alley fightin' in de middle of de night." Mattie placed her hands on her hips in a no-nonsense manner.

"That's 'cause we couldn't reach a common ground on remakin' de bed. But de whole thing's settled now. Right, _amoureux_?" Remy's gaze still hadn't stopped burning into Rogue's.

"If by settled ya mean the bed's already made, then yeah it's settled." Rogue met his ire.

Remy let out a frustrated grunt, pointing his finger in her face as if he would start the argument all over again. A quick admonishing "eh" from Tante had him thinking twice before he stormed out of the laundry room.

Once he was out of earshot, Rogue released her breath with a mumbled "Fucking asshole."

"No _femme _deserves t' be called _une salope_, but I'll not have any a' that kind a' language in this house, y' hear me?" Mattie turned the rebuke on Rogue.

Tired of Remy's shit and not willing to take any more from someone else, she mouthed off a quick "or what?" before thinking it through.

"Or y'll be washin' de dishes by hand for a week. And don't think I can't make y', _chile_." Tante promised.

Rogue set her jaw, pursing her lips into a pout to keep from sassing off again. When Mattie was sure her point had been made, she more gently added: "Gonna take more than _un _day."

Tante's words from yesterday's breakfast rang clear in Rogue's head. How was she supposed to give it time when all she and Remy seemed to do was fight anytime they were in the same room together? It seemed like no amount of time would change that.

"Yeah. Yer right." Tired from the day of shopping, impromptu laundry, and fight with Remy, she agreed with Tante just so she could go upstairs to bed.

Sensing her fatigue, Mattie gave Rogue a parting "_bonne nuit_" as she passed her in the doorway.

"Ya have a good night too, _Tante_." Rogue repeated.

Dragging herself up the stairs, she pushed into Remy's suite. The sitting room was blissfully void but as she rounded the corner into the bedroom, she saw him brushing his teeth in the bathroom. Rogue groaned as she stumbled into the room. So _tonight_ he would grace her with his presence. The one time she could care less if he honored his vows or not.

Finished with his teeth, Remy breezed past her into his closet. At least they were going to mutually ignore each other again instead of start another fight. Heading into the bathroom, Rogue quickly washed her face, brushed her teeth, and combed her hair.

She didn't hear any other noises from the bedroom, so she assumed Remy had crawled into bed. Ready to collapse onto the fluffy mattress too, her suspicions were confirmed when she saw him on top of the new covers with the ratty old quilt Mercy had mentioned. The pitiful little scrap really was as bad as she'd described.

With his back facing her side of the bed, Rogue thought she was safe to get undressed. She sat down on the edge to slip off her shoes and socks. The mattress bounced a little as Remy got more settled behind her, not that she cared whether he was comfortable or not. Lifting her shirt up, she tossed the thin fabric aside before reaching to unclasp her bra.

As the hooks broke free, Remy startled her with his sudden objection. "What do y' think yo' doin'?"

"Getting' ready for bed. What does it look like Ah'm doin'?" Rogue said, keeping her back to him but not refastening her bra. She didn't care whether he could see anything or not.

"Yeah, except I don't want t' see y' naked. Put some clothes on. In fact, new rule: if one of us is in de room, de other has to change in de bathroom." Remy declared.

"Fine! Ah don't wanna see yer pasty white ass anyway! My eyes might burn out at the sight." Rogue shouted back as she picked up her nightgown and pressed it to her chest.

"Hey, my ass is not pasty white. Not that y'll ever know." Remy took offense to her insult.

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes, moving into the bathroom again. "Ah'm gettin' real fuckin' sick and tired of yer damn rules. Whether ya like it or not, Ah live here too."

"Only 'til I can figure out how t' divorce y' wit'out causin' a Guild war." He shouted after her.

Enraged beyond words, Rogue quickly changed before slamming down the light switch in the bathroom. Crossing the room to her side of the bed, she flicked off the light and settled under the covers. Sure her back was to his, she lay awake in the dark for a long time. Only when her anger finally melted away did she slip into an uneasy sleep.

**(X)**

_Vous couillon! _– You fool!

_Ça va._ - Okay

Assignation – a meeting to set up a theft

Clenches – robbing a business at a specifically arranged time

_Contre-temps_ – a difficult heist during an inconvenient time

Shares – the portion a thief gets to keep or is paid out on the value of the stolen item

_Et bien sûr _– And of course

_Très bien _– Fine

Bondophile – fans of the James Bond fandom

_D'accord_ - Alright

_Où la baise est-elle? – _Where the fuck is she?

_C'est quoi ce bordel que tu as fait à _mon_ lit? _– What the fuck did you do to _my _bed?

_Où diable sont mes affaires _– Where the hell is my stuff?

_Petite salope _– Little bitch

_Amoureux _- sweetheart


	10. Chapter 9

**Thanks** to **Scottfan, Avid reader, couplest, Jean1, ColossusR, NanamiYatsumaki, Anna Claremont, RRL24, Demon Flame, RachaelMaree, Warrior-princess1980**_, _and all the **guest** reviewers! Last chapter was a lot of fun to see all of your insights!

**BTW_, _**she's baaack (sorta)!

**Chapter 9**

With their fight before bed last night, breakfast was another miserable affair for Rogue. She never thought she'd been happier than when the meal finally ended. As she left the dining room, she ran smack into Etienne.

"Oh, hey, sorry. Wasn't lookin' where Ah was goin'." Rogue apologized, letting some of the anger leach out of her voice when she saw it was him.

"It's no problem. Y' ready t' start trainin' t'day? _Noncle Jean-Luc_ said y' needed an escort while yo' in de lower level." His confidence quickly melted into uncertainty as he added: "I thought maybe I could be yo' sparrin' partner too. If y' like, that is."

"Sure, Ah'd like that." Rogue genuinely smiled at his offer. "Lemme just go upstairs and change. Ah'll meetcha back down here in five?"

"_D'accord_." He agreed with a smile.

As promised, she was back in the short time and dressed in baggy yoga pants, an oversized long sleeved shirt, running shoes, and her ever present gloves. Together, they walked to the hidden door. Jogging down the spiral staircase, they rounded the last step and headed over to the master thief training room. Etienne quickly but discreetly entered the punch code and the doors slid open.

"We have all de equipment for a general workout. We can start there and then do a li'l sparrin' if y' feel up t' it." Etienne pointed out the designated areas.

Rogue stood in awe. The space was huge for the layout of the manor. This room had to take up at least half of the lower level's floor plan. There was no way anything more than the vault, Jean-Luc's office, and the training room could exist within the limited space. It meant her memorized blueprints were wrong. She was floored by all the room had to offer.

In one corner, every top of the line strength training machine was neatly arranged like sparkling chrome monuments. A section with a boxing ring and sparring mats took up another corner. But it was the majority of the space that was impressive.

In the main part of the room, a high tech, extreme obstacle course rose from the floor nearly to the ceiling. Balance beams, cargo nets, stunted ladders, uneven bars, mounted fitness balls, and a sheer rock wall jutted out at various heights. No harness equipment was visible in the immediate area. Each was intimidating on its own, but modifications made them seem even more impossible to master.

The rock wall was constructed a good thirty feet from the ground with few hand- and footholds. One wrong move would send the trainee to a nasty spill. And the uneven bars jutting out of the ceiling would cause serious injury if someone fell. As for the stunted ladders, they climbed to towering heights just below the ceiling without going anywhere except to a hanging rope.

The cargo net was made up of flat woven nylon bands arranged in a diamond pattern, each space between the bands no more than three inches wide. The smaller holes were okay for a few fingers but barely allowed the toes.

Though the balance beams were only about ten feet high, they were unbelievably narrow. And weighted blocking pads randomly swung over them. The mounted fitness balls were too small to navigate by foot, requiring a series of hand springs, flips, and twists to get over them.

If the obstacle course wasn't bad enough, a twenty square foot trampoline built into the floor rested directly below a maze like series of gymnastic rings at least fifteen feet above it. Right next to the trampoline was the same set up but with gym mats underneath a lowered set of rings.

The final section of the training room contained what Rogue could only describe as a bondage lover's wet dream. Nylon ropes hung from the ceiling while straight backed chairs and wide flat tables were bolted to the floor below. Various detainment devices were attached to each apparatus, ranging anywhere from plain handcuffs to straightjackets to ankle spreader bars and everything in between. Though it looked like some kinky fantasy playground, Rogue understood the area was used to train a master thief in the art of escape. Still, it gave her a creepy sensation to see it all in the open as if it was no more uncommon than the treadmill in the smallest section of the training room.

Smirking at her dazed expression, Etienne nudged her as he asked, "Y' ready t' get started?"

"Yeah, sure." She answered, startled out of her reverie.

As planned, they headed over to the strength training area. Rogue opted to get her heart rate up by running while Etienne worked on a rower. When a fine sheen of sweat turned her skin balmy, she jogged off the treadmill before doing a quick circuit to lightly work her major muscle groups. Etienne spotted her as she did her reps and when she was resting between sets, he worked in a routine for himself.

It wasn't until the sweat had started to bead down her back that Rogue finally felt she had gotten a good enough warm-up. Several days had passed since she was last able to work out and it felt refreshing to push her muscles into action.

"Ya ready t' try a li'l hand ta hand?" She asked Etienne, taking a swig from a nearby water bottle.

"_Bien sûr! Les femmes d'abord…_" He gestured for her to go first.

Rogue was nervous as she stepped onto the practice mat. The match itself and the confidence in her skill set were no cause for worry. Instead, she was concerned about hurting Etienne. From a young age, she'd been trained to assess her target before ever thinking about a kill shot. This time would be no different. In that sense, she figured her training wasn't much unlike the thieves. The best of the best cased a place before running headlong into unknown security measures.

No, instead she was concerned that she might actually hurt Etienne. Though not necessarily peacekeepers, the thieves were much less bloodthirsty than the assassins. She had been raised to ignore the moral implications of murder. What the assassins did was a job, nothing anymore unusual than taking out the garbage. It was a cold separation from the rest of humanity. The thieves also held this same lack of morality, but generally only where stealing was concerned. Many were disturbed by the prospect of having to kill or willing to use deadly force if necessary to survive. That same drive for survival and kill success had been drilled into her until it was instinctual.

Despite their "girl bonding" time yesterday, Rogue still felt as if Mercy was treating her kindly out of obligation. She didn't think her sister-in-law was being disingenuous, but neither did she have the warm and fuzzy feeling most people did over new family. Etienne on the other hand had taken an innocent liking to Rogue from the very start. He was completely transparent, his emotions clearly played in his words and gestures. And Rogue hadn't felt that honest connection with anyone in a long time. So she most certainly didn't want to use her skills on him if it meant hurting the fledging relationship. She would just have to take a dive to spare both his pride and physical well-being.

After a few light stretches to loosen up her limbs, Rogue began to bounce back and forth on each foot.

"Do y' have any specific style?" Etienne asked as he also limbered up.

Rogue gave an evil smile. "How well d'ya know Dambe?"

It was a West African fighting style that involved striking, kicking, and some wrestling elements. Gris Gris had taught it to her, just like his father had taught him and his grandfather had taught his father and so on through several generations.

"Dambe?" Etienne questioned. "Wow, didn't expect y' t' say that. I've only ever heard of it, never seen it done. But ain't it kinda like kickboxin'?"

"The American version, kinda." Rogue agreed.

"I think I can keep up then." Etienne tossed her a boyish grin.

As Rogue shallowly squatted into the Dambe opening stance, Etienne tried to imitate her pose.

"Here, lemme show ya the basics. Yer weak hand is yer shield. Yer strong hand is yer spear. Normally, ya'd wrap it, but we can go without it today." She said as she demonstrated the arm placements.

The shield extended high out front, her palm open and facing out. It kind of looked like she was trying to slap his shoulder instead of shake his hand. Her spear was a tight fist and kept close to guard her stomach and exposed side.

When Etienne repeated her actions, she said, "Good. Now when ya wanna feint, slap my hand. Like this."

She quickly darted her hand forward to slap his before retreating back with the same lightning speed. Egging him on, Rogue motioned for him to do the same.

"Got it." He agreed.

"Okay, so ya feint a coupla times ta get yer opponent ta drop his guard and put him in a false sense a' ease. Then when he's least expectin' it, ya strike wit' either a kick or a punch. The match is three rounds and a round ends if there's no activity; one of us halts it; or if one of our knees, hands, or body touches the floor."

"Don't seem too hard." Etienne slyly smirked at her.

"Uh-huh. Tell me that when we _really_ start ta fight." She smiled back.

Just like she'd done earlier, she smacked his hand. But instead of retreating back, she brought her spear leg to slightly kick his calf. As she came down, all of her weight landed on that foot while her shield leg shot out high for a roundhouse kick to Etienne's head. He barely ducked out of the way of the blow.

"Whoa! Y' weren't kiddin'." He regained his balance and stepped back into the crouched stance.

All joking aside, Rogue concentrated on the match at hand. Even though it didn't look like it, she'd been ready to pull the kick short if Etienne hadn't moved so swiftly. It would take all her attention to make sure she didn't hurt him now that they were ready to fight.

Etienne slapped her hand as he'd been shown, Rogue staying firm against the feint. It had taken her a long time to patiently wait and keep her muscles coiled for an attack. She didn't know how many times Gris Gris had handed her ass to her before she gained the unwavering confidence of a master fighter. She slapped Etienne's hand in return, but made no move to attack.

The feints went back and forth for a few exchanges before he lunged forward with his spear fist. Rogue easily blocked the cross punch and attacked with another kick of her own, going for his ribs. A flurry of kicks and punches ensued until both competitors had their arms locked from making any further strikes.

Panting, Rogue said: "A referee would tell us ta break it up right 'bout now."

Etienne gave her a big grin as he stepped back. "All de more room t' strike again."

Once they were distanced, he gave the first slap and quickly followed it up with a kick to her shin. Rogue took the hit, but she hadn't been expecting the uppercut after it. Etienne hit her square in the chin. Maybe she didn't need to hold back as much as she'd thought. Shaking it off, she shuffled back two steps out of his range.

Their sparring went on for quite a while before Etienne lost his footing and braced his fall with his hand. The round went to Rogue. Sometime after the third round started, a small group crowded around them. Rogue ended up not throwing her punches as much as she'd anticipated and both of them were dripping sweat. As fatigue set into her muscles, she could see the same lack of fight in Etienne's eyes too. Both had taken a few good punches and kicks, but Etienne wasn't willing to give up.

Wanting to give him the victory of the win and boost up his ego, Rogue feinted before retreating back on her shield leg. It left an opening for Etienne to land a solid strike to her ribs. Going down to her knees, Rogue fully landed on her bottom. It was the closet to the "killing the opponent" face-down knock out she was willing to take.

"Looks like ya win." She said through heavy breaths.

Though weakened with exhaustion, Etienne's grin still beamed across his cheeks. "I think y' went easy on me."

"_Bon sang droit_." Remy's interruption wiped the smile from Etienne's face. "Never seen anyone throw a fight as obviously as she did just now."

Rogue furrowed her brow as she scrambled how to salvage Etienne's pride in winning. A furtive glance back showed the damage had already been done. Angry at the way his cousin ruined Etienne's good mood, she leveled a glare at Remy.

"Lemme guess, yer gonna challenge me now?" It was too predictable to be otherwise. "Prove how much better ya are?"

"As a matter a' fact," He said, stepping forward and pulling his tank over his head, "_Ouais_, I am challengin' y'."

Rogue slowly climbed to her feet. Since she hadn't pulled as many punches as she'd anticipated, she still had enough juice to fight Remy. But the fact still remained that she'd gone three intensive rounds already while he was fresh. The only way to keep up with him would be to pull out all the stops.

"Fine. No holds barred. No protection." She immediately called. It would be her only advantage.

"_D'accord_." Remy moved over to the boxing ring, pushing the ropes down to climb inside.

Reluctantly, Rogue followed. For the first time since marrying him, she let her eyes wander over his defined torso. She suddenly understood his reputation as a ladies man. It was obvious he spent a majority of his time in here toning the thick, corded muscles. His pecs were smooth, wide and firm, leading down to the ridges of his well sculpted abs. The sweatpants he wore hung loose on his hips, exposing the sharp cuts of his hip flexors. Overall, he looked like one of those Grecian marble statues she always had to touch to believe such beauty had been carved out of hard stone. She felt like running her fingers over the firm muscles to confirm what her eyes were seeing. It really was too bad he was an arrogant, hateful man.

Climbing into her corner, Rogue took the water bottle Etienne handed to her. After a few sips, she gave it back before turning to Remy.

"_Trois _rounds. First t' end up on de mat ends de round. No pullin' punches or throwin' de fight. Anythin' goes." He set down the ground rules as he moved toward the center of the ring.

Stepping up to him, she assumed a traditional fighter's stance, both fists close to her face with her elbows tucked in to protect her sides. Taking her cue, Remy repeated the stance before striking first. His rapid jab nearly caught her off guard, but she deflected it just in time.

She threw a right cross of her own which he quickly batted away. But it was only a ruse to get him to open his side for her short, stiff uppercut. The liver punch was a move she'd used to successfully take out opponents in the past. As if sensing her intent, Remy counterbalanced just enough that she landed a swiping glance to his ribs instead.

"Figthin' dirty already?" He taunted her.

"Last time Ah checked, that was a legal move." She refused to rise to his bait.

Ready to end the round and prove him wrong, Rogue tried for a sweeping kick to knock his feet out from under him. But as her leg connected with his, he grabbed the underside of her thigh and quickly stepped forward. Taking advantage of her unbalanced backward momentum, he continued to surge forward until her supporting leg failed and she tumbled onto her back. Remy continued with the follow-through, extending his arm toward her throat as he squatted over her. Stopping his fist right before he crushed her windpipe, the anger in his eyes held no satisfaction. First round: Remy.

"Gon' have t' do better than that _fille_ if y' think y' can beat me." He spat out.

Ignoring him, she batted away his fist and hopped onto her feet from her back in a rolling push up jump. Rogue retreated to her corner for some more water. Shame burned her cheeks. She'd let him get under her skin and forgotten her training. She was so wrapped up in ending things quickly that she didn't bother to observe her opponent to learn his weaknesses. And since she'd never seen Remy fight before, she had no prior knowledge about his skill set.

Clearing her mind, she stepped back toward the center of the ring. She would have to sacrifice this round so that she could pick out any flaws in his form. As agreed, Rogue wouldn't take a dive. But she wasn't going to do much more than block his attacks either.

"Bring it on." Rogue spat back at him.

They both put their arms up in the opening stance, but this time Rogue hooked first. Remy easily blocked her punch and tried for the same uppercut to her ribs she'd tried to give him earlier. His swing missed as she narrowly hopped back out of his range.

Quickly advancing forward, he used a _fouetté_. The whip like roundhouse kick allowed him to attack and advance at the same time until she was backed into the corner. With no place for her to go, Remy's kick landed firmly on her chest. But after taking the hit, she countered with a low kick to his shin.

Though the hit landed, Remy opted for a right cross toward her chin. Rogue barely had enough time to block it, but the punch left him open for her hook-jab-cross combo. Easily blocking her volley, he powered back with his own series of punches. The focus on crosses, jabs, uppercuts, and hooks left her feet free to skip away from the corner and back toward the center.

They continued their dance of kicks and punches for several minutes. Each landed solid hits on the other; neither gained a clear advantage. But Rogue had learned some very important things about Remy. He always followed his back-fist, cross back, hook punch combo with a roundhouse kick. When he tried a one-two punch, he feinted before going into a rear knee kick. And when he finished blocking her hook, his left side was completely exposed.

Seeing a few opportunities to exploit, Rogue lunged forward with a _median chassé _kick to his thigh. It was meant to throw him off guard so he would block and leave himself open for her hook. But instead of the quick piston like kick darting in and out, Rogue immediately noticed his knee waiver.

Before Remy could recover, she slammed a second _median chassé _into the exact same spot as he tried to hop away from her. She'd temporarily cut blood flow to his femoral artery. Involuntarily, he went down to his knees before falling onto his side on the mat. Rogue was about to surge in with a killing blow move, but Remy rolled up as she stepped closer.

Realizing that he might object to her knock out, she pointed out: "Ya went down. The round's mine."

Remy's response was sour. "_Apprécierez. _Y' won't win de last."

Moving back to center, they each reset their stance. Barely a second passed before Remy jutted out with a right cross and _coup de pied bas_. Not expecting the sweeping kick to her shin, Rogue started to tumble backward. Reaching out, she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck in a collar tie. With a strong grip, she flung her other hand out to brace her fall. From there it wasn't hard to hook her leg around his and bring him down with her.

Even though he touched the mat too, the round was his as soon as her back hit it first. But she was bound and determined to prove her worth. He'd landed on top of her, his chest flattened against hers. One of his legs rested between her thighs because of the way she'd hooked him on their way down. Similarly, her leg was pressed against his groin. Both of his hands were flat on the mat as he tried to break the holds. Her hand was still locked around his neck, bringing his sweating face close to hers. Their lips were inches apart. But her free hand had landed in the perfect position for her next move.

"I win." Remy panted in her face, triumph gloating in his eyes.

"Really?" Rogue countered as she flicked her wrist.

She never went anywhere without her Bloodletting karambit. She'd put her shoulder harness on under her shirt and had been able to slide it out as they fell. With a simple twist, she could slice through his side like his skin was butter.

"Y' sure 'bout that?" His triumph was replaced with an odd confidence.

Remy's eyes flicked down toward her knife and she broke her gaze away from his long enough to take a quick peak. The curved, claw-like blade glowed bright cerise, as did her shirt.

Leaning ever so closer, he whispered in her face, "Bang. Yo' dead."

His cocky smirk infuriated her beyond rationality. Surging up, she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips fully against his mouth. His eyes widened in horror, but Rogue held the clinch hold around his neck. Quickly turning her power on full blast, she concentrated on only gaining his mutation and the knowledge of how to control it. Draining him unconscious was a secondary thought. She needed him weakened just enough to push him off. She didn't really want to hurt him.

As the thick, black spidery veins began to pop up on his face from the effect of her mutation, she gained just enough of his powers to de-charge her blade and shirt. The reabsorbed energy tingled through her body but gave her a strange strength. Rogue could feel the kinetic energy of everything around her. She also felt a surge of enhanced agility and dexterity, using it to roll him off of her. As Remy gasped and tried to fight off unconsciousness, she straddled his hips. With one gloved hand on his shoulder, the other held the blade against his throat.

"Nope. Looks like _you _are." Rogue held the pose as he continued to choke for air.

When she was sure her point had been made, she climbed off of him and headed toward the edge of the ring. The other thieves stood in shock, giving her a wide berth as she hopped down. Behind her, Remy rose to his knees.

Regaining enough air, he coughed out, "Y' cheated! I won de round first."

"Maybe so." She threw over her shoulder. "But Ah got the kill."

Feeling a mix of emotions aimed at her ranging from awe to hostility, Rogue headed toward the door. Etienne ran to catch up with her, serious about his role as escort.

"No one's ever beat Remy before. At least, not since he earned his mastery." He was one of the awestruck bystanders.

"First time for everythin'." Rogue countered, not really in the mood to talk about it.

"Y' have t' admit though, that last bit was a dirty move." Etienne tried to smooth things over. "Even if they didn't like yo' method, y' earned some respect wit' some of de other thieves just from yo' mad skills."

"That's nice." She strode over to the spiral staircase and started to jog up the steps.

She could honestly care less if she gained any friends or made more enemies. She just wanted to get as far away from the training room as possible.

"Hey! What's a' matter?" He grabbed her elbow to get her stop.

The grip halted her as she turned sad eyes on him. "It's nothin'. Ya wouldn't understand."

It was true. He had no clue what it was like to have to fight for his life from the time he was eight. Etienne didn't understand that her little maneuver wasn't a means to end a match, but rather the only way she knew how to earn anyone's respect. In the assassins, a person's worth was determined by how well he or she could execute a kill. And it was drilled into them from the time they were children. Just like the thieves had loose morals around stealing, the assassins held no ethics for "fighting dirty". Using every resource available was just common sense.

"Well how 'bout we get outta de house and forget all this. Y' ever been in a pirogue before?" He tried to change the subject.

Even though she'd just done a good job of bringing his hero down to a human level, Etienne was still oddly interested in her. It should have given her pause. Why was he still so insistent on being friendly? But Rogue was too worked up over what had just happened to think straight.

"Uh-uh." She answered as she began climbing the stairs toward Remy's suite. Though she'd heard mention of the small, canoe like boat, she'd never actually been allowed out to see one, much less use it.

"Maybe we could go now. I got nothin' better t' do for de rest of de afternoon." Etienne hedged.

Rogue didn't even think twice as she said, "Ah don't think so."

"Oh. _D'accord_." His dejection rang solidly in her ears. "Maybe some other time."

As she continued on to the third floor, he back peddled the few steps to the second. Already feeling horrible about the scene in the training room, Rogue couldn't stand disappointing someone else.

With a sigh, she asked, "How 'bout next week?"

"It's no problem. Y' don't have t' go." Etienne waved her off.

Tilting her head back, Rogue took a deep breath before going back down the stairs. "No. Really. Ah'd like ta go next week."

"_Ouais?_" The hopeful note was back in his voice.

"Yeah." She gave him a weak, but encouraging smile as she clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Ah'm really tired now though and Ah just wanna take a shower."

"_Bien_. I'll see y' 'round then." Etienne beamed back at her before hopping down the last few steps to the second floor.

Once he was out of sight, Rogue made her way upstairs. As soon as she was in Remy's suite, she was assaulted by the ringtone used only for Marius. With a curse under her breath, she rushed over to her side of the bed and grabbed the phone before her voicemail could pick it up.

"_Bonjour_." She forced her breath to calm so she wouldn't sound weak.

"_Fille_." Marius said by way of greeting. He continued in French. "_I haven't heard an update since y' left us._"

She wanted to say _'that's because there's been nothin' ta report_', but she knew she couldn't sass off that way. Instead, she answered: _"Ah'm workin' on it. They still don't trust me, but Ah've made a little progress_."

"_That is not a good enough report. Do y' wish t' displease me?"_ He asked. It was a bait he used to provoke someone into either action or insolence.

"_No, père_. _Ah'll have more next time we speak_." Rogue promised, though she may have to come up with more of the lie she'd already started.

Unlike loving fathers, Marius' closing was a threat._ "Bon_. _Make me proud_."

Pressing the button to end the call, he immediately dialed another. The shortened beep-pause cadence was indicative of an international call. The pattern repeated several times before a person on the other side finally picked up.

"_Patriarch_, _I wasn't expectin' yo' call_." The weak, male voice on the line panted out.

"_I would hope that isn't de way y' are treatin' my daughter_." Marius reminded .

"_Non! Of course not. Bella Donna is bein' treated très bien. I wouldn't dream-_" He started with placation, but Marius cut him off.

"_Assez! There has been a change of plans. Belle must stay wit' y' longer." _Marius instructed.

"_Mais bien sùr!" _The man vowed, ingratiating himself to the assassin leader.

"_I expect her to be returned in excellent condition when de time comes._" Marius reminded him.

"_It shall be no other way_." He responded, but Marius had already hung up.

The man sank back in the chair for only a moment before he nervously jumped back up and headed over to the heavy steel door. Sliding it across the flagstone flooring, bright light flooded the dimly lit holding cell. The young woman restrained in the chair struggled at her chains. Her muffled protests were rough from screaming herself hoarse.

Even though Bella Donna was blindfolded, gagged, and held in place by thick, heavy chains pulling her arms behind her back, her ears had remained completely free. She could hear everything that had happened since she woke up in the metal chair.

"Now _princesse_, I am under strict orders from de Patriarch. If y' keep fightin' it, y'll only be hurt." Her captor said as he entered the room and crossed over to her.

From the first moment he'd spoken, Belle had clearly recognized his voice. It was Monsignor Renault. The priest who had conducted her pre-cana with Remy.

His hand landed on her shoulder as he gently squeezed it before traveling down to grope her breast. A gentle kiss landed on top of her head. Belle mumbled expletives at him. She didn't believe what he'd said for one second. She was her father's favorite and he'd _never_ instruct anyone to hold her hostage and treat her the way she had been. Her only conclusion was that he'd kidnapped her.

There was no way to tell time other than one of the three times she was brought a nourishment shake each day, so she had no clue how long she'd been wherever she was. And besides being bound and gagged, she'd been more than physically abused. Once a day, her captor gained added pleasure when he took it upon himself to sponge bathe her. His hands wandered to placed only Remy had previously touched.

There were still too many unknowns in her escape plan, but Belle did know two things that would happen when she got free: the monsignor was a dead man and she swore revenge on whoever helped him miss her wedding to Remy.

**(X)**

_Bien sûr! Les femmes d'abord_ - Of course! Ladies first...

_Bon sang droit_. _ - _Damn straight.

___fouetté_, _median_ chassé, and _coup de pied bas_ are kicks in Savate _  
_

_Apprécierez_ - Enjoy.


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay – I've felt horrible the last couple of days.

**Thanks** to **LayLay16, Anna Claremont, Jean1, couplest, NanamiYatsumaki, Avid reader, RRL24, Warrior-princess1980** and all the guest reviews, new followers, and favorites!

.

**Chapter 10**

The last few days were completely miserable, at least in the sense that Rogue was totally alone again. She maybe earned some of the thieves respect regarding her skills, but the little stunt pulling her knife on Remy only managed to get her a wide berth from the people she wasn't _purposely _trying to avoid. Some even looked on her with disgust that assassin scum should dirty their safe haven.

It came as no surprise that Remy steered clear of her as much as she hid from him. And his family wasn't exactly warm and fuzzy toward her since the incident, not that she'd ever felt that from anyone besides Etienne and a touch from Mercy. Even Tante gave her a reproachful glare anytime they'd congregated together for meals.

In one sense, Rogue was relieved that she didn't have to live up to anyone's expectations. Even though Jean-Luc had been a gracious host and generous father-in-law, she couldn't help but think that he viewed her as a new tool in his arsenal. On the other hand, she was lonelier now than she'd been when living with the assassins. At least there she'd been purposely segregated from everyone else. Here she was surrounded by people that wanted nothing to do with her.

Surprisingly, she was looking forward to Etienne being back from his latest heist. They were finally going out in his pirogue and it would give her the opportunity to get away from the manor for a while.

Rummaging through her closet, Rogue decided on a long, thin sundress with spaghetti straps. A thin, lacy pair of gloves and a light, loosely knitted bolero would keep her covered but cool in the mid-summer heat. It was a shame she was keeping up the pretense of not having control. She had a ton of cute shorts and tanks that would be much more comfortable.

As she laid her clothes out on the bed, Remy thudded into the suite. "What're y' doin'?" He asked as he went over to his closet.

Rogue couldn't help the sarcastic response. "Um, what does it _look_ like Ah'm doin'?"

Remy cursed under his breath as he spun around to address her directly. "I can see yo' gettin' dressed, but there's _deux _problems. _Une_, yo' not in de bathroom, so yo' breakin' a rule. _Et deux_, y' haven't worn a dress since we were married, so y' must be goin' someplace or meetin' someone special."

"One," Rogue mimicked his points as she ticked them off on her fingers. "Ah was in here by myself when Ah picked out my clothes. If _you_ don't like it, _you_ go in the bathroom. And two, what Ah'm doin' for the day is none of yer business."

Enraged, Remy stomped over to her. Only a few inches separating them as he yelled: "_Conneries!_ Yo' my wife and I have every right t' know yo' business."

Rogue refused to be intimidated. In a normal voice, she agreed: "Bullshit's right! Ah'm only yer wife when it's convenient for ya."

"Well as yo' so fond of remindin' me," Remy crossed his arms, "We are de Guilds' peace treaty. So if there's any reason I feel that yo' not honorin' it or our vows, I would be obligated t' bring it t' our _pères' _attentions."

His smile was reminiscent of the cat that ate the canary. He was so self-satisfied with his logic. And it was pretty sound. Rogue had no choice but to divulge her plans.

Hate shone in her eyes as she had to open up a little bit to him. "Ah'm goin' out in Etienne's pirogue. The spicebush swallowtails are in season and Ah haven't seen 'em in years."

It was the most of her fond childhood memory that she was going to give him.

Remy grunted as he rolled his eyes and turned back toward his closet. There really wasn't anything else he could say about it since the outing was so innocent.

Feeling vindictive over having to reveal a vulnerable part of herself, Rogue couldn't help the last barb that flew out of her mouth as she grabbed her clothes.

"Besides, it's not like _you_ ever do anythin' with me. Ya have no right ta complain if Ah decide Ah'm not gonna sit around the house all day and twiddle my thumbs while ya live yer life." She jabbed as she strode over to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

She still heard Remy's voice through the door: "_L'enfer ouais__! _Why would I want t' do anythin' wit' a _putain_ like y'!"

**(X)-(X)-(X)**

Rogue sighed as she leaned back on her elbows in the pirogue, her face meeting the sun. Even though it was sticky humid and a tad too hot, a nice breeze wafted over the bayou to help keep them cool. The soft sounds of water splashing over the oar created a soothing atmosphere to go with their slow but steady speed.

Etienne had insisted on the paddling duties, especially after he'd seen how irritated she was when she first came downstairs. He'd eased her into small talk to lighten her mood. Once she seemed happier, the topics turned to fond childhood memories. Too many of his involved Remy, the one person Rogue could care absolutely nothing about at the moment. But the boyish grin on Etienne's face was too innocent to dash by souring the mood. As they drew closer to his "hidden meadow", their conversation had slowly died down to a silence that just enjoyed the beautiful day.

"We're here." He announced, startling her out of relaxation as the pirogue bumped into solid land.

"Oh." Rogue said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice when she first looked up.

When he'd described this secret spot, he'd made it seem like it was a field of low cut green grass filled with various wild flowers and maybe a shady tree. Instead they'd paddled through woody cypress swamp, going deep enough that only a pirogue would be able to navigate around the roots' protruding knees.

The towering deciduous trees blocked out the clear blue sky with their spirally, twisted branchlets. And the little bit of solid land they'd bumped into was densely covered with more cypress, prickly ash, and swamp magnolias. But the vegetation was a nectar filled smorgasbord for the little black butterflies. Puddles of the swallowtails grouped around the white blossoms, their dark wings winking open and closed to reveal the bluish green smattering and light yellow dots of their markings.

Rogue sat up in awe, never having seen so many in one place before. When Etienne had suggested the outing, the only memory she had of her parents sprung to mind. It was hazy now, like a single washed-out photograph instead of the home movie she initially remembered when she was younger. The only part she could clearly pick out anymore was toddling around as a couple of the majestic insects tickled her face. But this place, the sheer number of butterflies, was amazing. There had to be thousands of them.

"Do y' like it?" Etienne hedged when Rogue didn't say anything.

"Huh?" She'd barely heard what he'd asked. "Oh, yeah. Ah love it."

Slowly, carefully, Rogue stood up in the boat and stepped out onto the bank. She inched forward, so as not to startle the delicate little creatures. When she stopped in the middle of the butterfly puddle, she leaned forward as far as she dared to better examine their bright colors. With her hand outstretched, Rogue lightly ran her finger over the edge of one butterfly's wing. The bluish-green male darted away, causing the others to fly up in a cloud of black and blue flits. Their tiny wings gently brushed against Rogue's skin as she smiled. A light laugh floated past her lips.

Etienne stayed back at the bank, watching as the swallowtails swirled around her and occasionally landed on her arm or in her hair. Rogue spun around in their midst, her eyes soaking up the experience and committing every detail to memory. Her smile far outshined the brightly filtered sunlight. It was so pure, unadulterated, innocent. It was the happiest he'd ever seen her, not that he'd known her for long. But in the short time since she'd married Remy, she'd always had a despondency about her. Etienne grinned, knowing he'd brought this little bit of joy to her life.

As the butterflies found new places to settle, Rogue rushed back to him. Throwing her arms around his shoulders, she gave him a careful hug as she whispered, "Thank ya," into his ear.

Her reaction had been so sudden. Etienne didn't know what to do. Since she had his arms pinned to his side, he awkwardly lifted his hands to pat her on the back. "_Vous êtes les bienvenus_."

Rogue pulled away, realizing how much she'd let down her guard. With the last of her openness, she kissed two of her gloved fingers and pressed them to his cheek. "This was really sweet."

Etienne coughed, clearing his throat of the sudden lump. "Um, I have a li'l picnic if y'd like t' stay for a while."

"Ah'd love that." Rogue gently smiled at him as his boyish grin returned.

Grabbing the small basket and a light blanket, Etienne walked farther into the swamp magnolias so they'd be in the middle of the relocated puddle. Inside the basket were a few finger sandwiches, a couple sodas, and some of Tante's scratch made cookies. It was nothing more than a light snack, but provided the opportunity to stay out in the fresh air a little longer and get to know a friend a little better.

"Have y' ever seen de swallowtails before?" Etienne asked as he divvied up the food.

"Yeah, once. But it was a long time ago." Rogue fondly smiled on the memory as she began to tell him what little she still remembered.

**(X)-(X)-(X)**

"Thanks for takin' me out today." Rogue gave Etienne a hug at the second floor landing. "Ah had a lot a' fun."

"Anytime, _mon ami papillon_." His smile was as wide as the Mississippi.

Stepping away, Rogue continued upstairs while Etienne moved further down the hall. They'd gotten back much later than expected. Etienne said he forgot the way, but Rogue thought he just wasn't ready to come back. She knew she certainly wasn't, so she didn't complain when she realized they'd passed the same grove of trees four times. It was well after nine o'clock now and they'd managed to miss dinner. Tante no doubt would give her another tongue lashing for that, but Rogue really could care less.

Walking into Remy's suite, she found the room completely dark. She quietly crept into the bedroom until she realized the bed was still perfectly made. With a quick flick, she flipped on the overhead lights and started her nightly routine. After the day out in the bayou, she really wanted a shower to wash off the balminess that had clung to her skin.

Shedding her gloves first, it wasn't long before she was stripped down and ready to jump in the shower. Without waiting for the water to warm up first, Rogue was hit with a momentary blast of cold water before it heated enough to feel cool and refreshing against her sticky skin. As she lathered her hair, a hunger pang reminded her that she'd only had the finger sandwiches hours ago. Maybe there were some leftovers in the kitchen downstairs or at least some other snack she could raid without eating a big meal right before bed.

Rinsing her hair, she quickly soaped up with body wash before washing it away and turning off the shower. Rogue grabbed a towel, barely rubbing the soft terrycloth over her skin as she walked into the bedroom. Remy wasn't here right now, so she was damn well going to wander around in her usual routine as she found her short blue negligee and long white silk robe. Tousling dry her hair, she tossed the towel into her hamper before sliding the satiny material over her body. Neither her slippers nor her gloves were very far away, but she opted for only the fuzzy warm house shoes. She was only going to grab some food and come right back up.

Rogue quickly skipped down the flights of stairs, rounding the corners in the main hall and dining room to end up in the kitchen. Only the under cabinet lights were on and she didn't bother to turn on any others. As she focused on the refrigerator, she was surprised to see the door already open and someone rummaging through it.

Thinking it was Etienne, she sauntered up behind him and said: "Looks like Ah'm not the only one who's sorry we missed dinner."

The person jumped, hitting his head on a shelf in the fridge and quickly following it up with a muffled curse. Emil's red hair popped up first before he turned to face her. "I don't know 'bout y', but my dinner was so good I had _tiers_. Just raidin' for some more beer and snacks for our poker game."

His arms were loaded with two six packs, chip dip, cold leftover pizza, and a jar of pickled smoked sausage.

"Ah'm sorry, Ah thought ya were Etienne." Rogue's cheeks pinked a little when she realized she wasn't teasing her friend.

"_Ouais_, I heard y' _deux_ were out in de swamp all day t'gether." Etienne said as he dumped everything on the counter and started raiding the cabinets.

He'd left the refrigerator door open, so she reached in and grabbed an Asian pear and bottle of water. By the time she turned around, he had already found two bags of chips, Cajun nuts, and the leftovers of Tante's home baked cookies.

"Ya hostin' a tournament for twenty people up there?" She asked as she waved toward the score of food he'd collected.

"Nah. Just me, Theo, Russo, and Toussaint. Et was s'pose t' play, but he's passed out upstairs right now. Y' really tuckered de li'l guy out." Emil flashed her a suggestive smirk.

"Whatever." Rogue rolled her eyes as she lightly slapped his shirt covered shoulder over the innuendo. "He was the one who insisted on doin' all the rowin' today." Before Emil could come up with another, she added, "Who're Russo and Toussaint?"

"Fellow thieves." He winked at her as if the answer was obvious. Rogue just rolled her eyes.

"Thanks. That clears up a lot." She smarted off.

"Well, they're not related t' de family if that's what yo' askin'. Just fellow thieves." He reiterated. "Anyway, we're a man short." A brilliant idea flashed in his eyes. "Hey, y' don't know how t' play, do y'?"

"Actually yeah, Ah do." Rogue said matter-of-factly.

"_Bon._ Then it's only fair y' join us since yo' de reason Et's out." He said as if the matter was settled and started gathering the snacks.

With a shrug, Rogue helped him carry his loot, thinking '_why the hell not'. _

They climbed the stairs together as Emil surprisingly led the way to the family dining room. She hadn't been expecting him to go there since the mansion had a fully equipped game room. As he described, the other men were sitting at the table. The cards were already shuffled and the chips already divvied up.

By looks alone, she couldn't pick out which man was Russo and which was Toussaint. Even though they were seated, one looked tall and lithe, kind of like Remy only with long dark hair and not as well built. The other was about Theoren's height (sitting of course), but had sandy blonde hair and was very barrel chested.

Theoren saw Rogue first. "What's _she _doin' here?"

"Couldn't find Remy. 'Sides, we needed a _femme _t' play t' break up this sausage fest." Emil joked as he spread the snacks out on the table's free space.

Theoren and the sandy haired man gave each other a disgruntled look, but otherwise said nothing further as Rogue took the empty seat between the Remy look-a-like and Emil.

"_Salut_. I don't think we've been officially introduced. I'm Russo Porter." The dark haired man said, holding out his hand in offering.

Rogue was about to raise her hand in return when she fell short and chewed her lip. She'd left her gloves in Remy's suite. Though she knew nothing would hurt Russo if she took his hand, there were others at this table that would see the lie in her claim to have no control over her mutation. Instead, she waved and gave an apologetic smile.

"Hi. Ah'd shake yer hand, but…" She trailed off, wiggling her fingers at him.

"Ah, de untouchable Rogue. I was in de trainin' room that day." His lips quirked up a bit as he grabbed a beer.

Without knowing him well, Rogue couldn't read if his rueful smile was him being upset or impressed with her little display. She wisely chose to stay silent as Emil shuffled one more time and dealt the cards.

"Game's _Follow de Queen_." He said, winking toward Rogue as he continued to toss two cards facedown to each player.

Theoren rolled his eyes, but otherwise said nothing about the easy variation of 7 card stud.

When it came time for the up card, he added, "And it looks like deuces are wild," after seeing the first card that appeared face up after a queen.

Other than the two extra cards and the wild option, the hands were won with the classic 5 card combinations. Opening bets were made, another card was dealt to each player, and betting began again. This continued for three betting rounds before the final card was dealt face down. Toussaint got to open the last round of betting since he had the highest up card in the last round.

"_Dix_." He tossed the chip into the sizeable pile.

"I see yo' ten and raise ten." Russo countered.

Rogue peeked at her down cards. She had a full house of kings and fives. It was a good hand. But looking around at the up cards on the table, she wasn't sure it was a winning hand.

"Call." She plinked her chips into the center.

With disgust, Theoren said, "Fold."

"Call." Emil answered when play came to him.

Flipping over his cards, Toussaint revealed a flush of hearts. "Beat that, _mes amies_."

Russo didn't even bother, but revealed his losing three of a kind Jacks.

Rogue took a little breath as she slowly exhaled it and turned over her cards. "Well it's not the greatest hand, but it does look like Ah've won so far." She smiled, thinking she might have the pot.

"Ah, but y' haven't seen my cards yet." Emil taunted her, slowly flipping each card over to reveal a straight flush of diamonds, seven to Jack. "I do believe de hand is mine." He laughed as he reached forward to scoop up the chips.

After they were organized, he shuffled the cards again. Though it hadn't officially been declared, Rogue figured out that the winner got to play dealer and pick the game. Again Emil picked _Follow the Queen_, but they only played one more hand of it since Theoren won next. From there they'd played anything from _Guts _to _Omaha_ to plain 5 card stud. They were in the middle of the second betting round when Remy stood at the door.

"There y' _bâtards_ are_._ I've been lookin' all over for y'." He sauntered closer to the table.

Rogue just kept her eyes on her cards, but he'd seen her as soon as he stepped further into the room.

"What are y' doin' in here?" He immediately demanded.

Unable to resist the urge, she sassed back, "Ah think that's pretty obvious unless ya've gone blind since this mornin'."

Her gaze remained intent on the game, but he came up behind her. What he saw stopped him dead.

From her seated position, he could clearly see down her low cut negligee. And her long white robe had no tie to cover her long, lean but very exposed legs. As she bent over to drop her chips into the pile, he could see the thin fabric dip even lower to reveal a good portion of her cleavage. A flush ran through his body at the smooth curves of her breasts, but he immediately dismissed it as not having sex in weeks.

Instead, Remy's eyes darted up to the men sitting around the table. Though his cousins had enough sense not to look at his wife, the other two theives' gazes were glued to the same full curves he'd briefly appreciated only a moment earlier. Viewing the situation as Rogue daring to flaunt herself in front of his friends and family, Remy grabbed her silk covered upper arm and dragged her out of the chair.

"Yo' comin' wit' me." He said, brokering no opportunity for her to respond as he pulled her out of the room. Her hand of cards fluttered to the ground behind her.

They were down the hall and halfway up the stairs before Rogue's shock dissipated enough to struggle back.

"What the hell, Remy? Ah was havin' a good time!" She objected, trying to wrench free from his grasp.

His hold tightened as he dragged her into his suite, practically tossing her onto the sofa before slamming the door behind him. "_Ouais_, and so were my friends!" He shouted back.

Not understanding the sudden outburst, Rogue answered back, "Um, that's what usually happens when people are playin' games, asshole."

"I'm not talkin' 'bout de cards. It's de show y' were puttin' on, y' _petite salope_." He paced over to her, thrusting a finger in her face.

Rogue really wanted to bat it away. But for the second time that night, she cursed that she'd decided to go downstairs without her gloves. "Ah don't know what the fuck yer talkin' 'bout."

"_This_," He emphasized by grabbing a fistful of the flimsy blue material at her waist. "_This_ is what I mean. Low cut, short, thin as tissue paper scrap a' fabric y' call pajamas. Y' will _not_ wear anythin' like it again."

His tone was forbidding, but Rogue wasn't about to bow down to his order. Crossing her arms over her chest, she argued back, "Ah'll damn well wear what Ah want."

"No," Remy quietly said as he leaned down to get in her face. "Y' won't. No wife of mine will wear _une pute's _clothes."

"Oh Gawd!" Rogue rolled her eyes and walked away from him. "Ain't it convenient again that Ah'm yer wife. Just in time for another one of yer stupid rules. Newsflash, _Gambit_, Ah ain't abidin' by that one and ya already know why."

Without waiting for his response, she moved into the bedroom and over to the bed. Pulling down the covers, she climbed into bed as he followed her.

"If y' know what's good for y', y'll figure out somethin' else t' sleep in." Remy said his peace as he stormed into the bathroom.

"Don't ya dare threaten me, Remy LeBeau. Or so help me Gawd, y'll get t' know my knife much better than that day in the trainin' room." She countered, settling down in bed as she rolled onto her side away from him and angrily pulled the covers up to her neck.

Remy didn't bother to answer her, instead opting to get ready for bed himself as he brushed his teeth and quickly rinsed off in the shower. Rogue turned off her bedside light, plunging the room into darkness save for the light coming from under the bathroom door.

When Remy was finished, he blared open the door. Seeing the darkened bedroom, he set about turning on all the lights he could. Since she was still awake, Rogue just huffed at his childish behavior. She heard him rustling around the room before the lights were turned off one by one when he was finally ready to go to bed.

The ratty quilt made yet another appearance as he flopped on top of the covers. He could sleep in any position, but he usually liked starting off on his back. After a bit of wiggling, he turned off his bedside lamp.

Rogue silently waited in the dark, listening for his breath to even out. When she was sure he was out, she reached over and grabbed her phone. After the fight, she really wasn't tired. Reading had always helped put her to sleep, so she thumbed through her apps and opened her latest romance novel. She'd only been reading for about two minutes before she felt the bed shift.

Remy huffed at her, exasperated. "What are y' doin' now?"

"Nothin'." Rogue immediately answered, not wanting to admit she was reading the trashy book.

"De light that's keepin' me awake is tellin' me otherwise." Remy almost sing-songed back.

Afraid he might take away her phone to look for himself, she huffed out, "Ah'm readin', alright?"

Her fears were well-founded because the next thing she knew he'd snatched the cell out of her hand quick as lightning. Rogue flipped over, reaching out to get her phone back. Remy held it away from her as he silently read over the prose. When he got to a particularly juicy part, he teasingly started reading out loud.

"_Genevieve's breasts were heavin' as de back of Luke's hand brushed against de rounded globes. His other hand untied de laces on her bodice. As his tongue plundered her mouth, his fingers reached into her dress t' play wit' one of de rosy buds. Genevieve moaned int' his mouth, beggin' him-" _

Rogue finally managed to retrieve her phone while he was distracted with the sex scene. She shut it off, placed it back on her nightstand, and rolled away from him again. "Yer such an ass."

The smirk was audible in his words. "Least I don't have t' use a book t' get off. Before y', I was gettin' tail left and right."

"Good for ya. Ah'm so glad yer a man-whore." Rogue mumbled into her pillow.

"Rather be that then an untouchable virgin. Even if _un homme_ could, he wouldn't _want_ t' touch y'." His voice was full of malice.

Instead of answering, Rogue remained silent against his harsh words. Though he didn't know it, the fear of never being touched, kissed, or loved had once terrified her before she gained control. Unloved by her adopted family, her mutation at one point had guaranteed that she couldn't ever even hope for someone to fall in love with her. It was a despair that left her lonely and crying herself to sleep many nights.

Remy's words just brought back all those old insecurities. Only now instead of her mutation holding her back, the arranged, loveless marriage she had been forced into had just transferred her from one unloving family to another.

Once again when Remy's breathing had slowed, Rogue finally allowed herself to break down. Hot tears silently burned across her cheeks, soaking into her pillow. Rogue feared she was destined to be alone and unwanted her entire life.

**(X)**

_L'enfer ouais _– Hell yeah

_Putain_ – bitch

_Vous êtes les bienvenus _– You're welcome

_Mon ami papillon _– my butterfly friend

_Salut _– hi

_Petite salope_ – little slut

_Une pute _– a whore


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N:** I hope this chapter satisfies some need for different points of view. I think there's very little Rogue POV this time around, so hopefully you'll get some insight into different character's behaviors.

**Side Note**: Most of the part about Shakespeare's hair is real, although I fictionalized that it wasn't a forgery – in reality, they believe it is. The price is based on 3 of John Lennon's hairs going for $48K and 1 of Beethoven's for $202K. The Hypermach SonicStar is real too. But as far as I know, the prototype hasn't been built yet.

**Thanks** to **maedeux, Scottfan, Jean1, awh1202a, Avid reader, couplest, Fostersb, Suze Nora, CaptMacKenzie, Warrior-princess1980, NanamiYatsumaki, RRL24, Heartbreak Lane**, and all the guest reviewers, followers, and favoriters! Your feedback keeps me on my toes for this fic since it's written one chapter at a time.

.

**Chapter 11**

"I will speak wit' 'em now, Marius. _Adieu_." Jean-Luc curtly finished the conversation, hanging up the phone.

Things were moving much more quickly than he had expected. Pulling out his cell phone, Jean-Luc sent a quick text to Remy. It was the best way to reach his often wandering son.

_Find Rogue and join me in my office._

Jean-Luc sighed as he put the cell down, his head resting in his hands. It would be a few minutes before Remy made it down, so he took the time to organize his thoughts. Marius had called about the transfer of power, wanting a swift transition. It was only through some very sound logic that Jean-Luc was able to convince him Remy and Rogue were too young and immature to handle the reigns alone.

But the request set him on edge. If Marius truly agreed that the two were such irresponsible teenagers, why even broach the subject of unifying the guilds so early? Jean-Luc could only be left with one conclusion and that was Marius was attempting a coup.

A light knock at his open door alerted him to Remy's presence as he said, "Y' wanted t' see us, _père_?"

Jean-Luc looked up, scouring the worry off his face as he gestured toward the two seats in front of his desk. "Shut de door and have a seat."

He was surprised when the two settled so easily. The air was still tense between them, but they must not have had a chance to fight with each other today. Dinners had been especially strained since they'd usually grated on each other's nerves at some point during the day and it followed them into every situation thereafter where they had to be together.

"Marius just called. He wanted t' transfer de guild powers t' each of y' by de end a' de week." Jean-Luc stated, purposely leaving off the rest in order to see their reactions.

Rogue was unaffected, as if she expected as much. Jean-Luc's earlier concern settled in his gut like a ten pound stone. Remy's reaction was also predictable as his eyes widened and he sat forward.

"Did y' tell him no? I mean, we can't learn everythin' we need t' run de Unified Guild in _trois _days!" He objected.

Jean-Luc leveled an even gaze on his son. "Y' knew this was yo' responsibility and it would come after y' were married."

"_Ouis, mais-" _Remy started, but his father interrupted him: "-But nothin'. De time has come for y' t' grow int' de _homme_ y' were raised t' be."

His son slumped back in the chair. Remy knew he couldn't make any argument that wouldn't earn him a stern lecture, and one that he'd heard too many times before. He sometimes thought he'd only been adopted so he could take over this role. But it had always seemed so far away. Now that it was upon him, he desperately wanted to push the burden off on someone else.

"De good news is that I convinced Marius t' agree t' a slower transition. There'll be a display of unification in a few weeks, but de formal power transfer won't occur 'til y' both prove yo' ready t' assume de joint leadership." Jean-Luc explained the rest.

"So what all does that entail?" Rogue asked, still as collected as ever.

He looked at her for a long time before he even considered answering. She was almost too calm about the transfer. Granted, he had no clue how Marius had raised this adopted daughter of his. It was quite possible that she had been better groomed from the start and was resigned to the inevitable. Then again, she hadn't been surprised about her groom unlike the shock the thieves went through at seeing her as the bride. But Remy too had known his place for a long time and yet he acted as if this was the first he'd heard of it, regardless of his wife's identity.

So that left only two possibilities. Either Marius was planning some means of betrayal worse than the stunt at the wedding and Rogue was the intended weapon; or there was more to her than met the eye. If it was the former, Jean-Luc had already been expecting some kind of assassination attempt. It would have made sense for Remy to have had an accident on their wedding night. But that hadn't been the case. Had Rogue had second thoughts and could she be swayed to the thieves' side of things now? Or was there a greater plan in the works that Jean-Luc would need to be ever on his guard?

If Rogue wasn't part of some plot, she could prove a very useful tool to the thieves. While Jean-Luc would never consider taking contracts (and why would he after the unification), her mutation could help them in obtaining bigger scores. Their thief double agent inside the assassins didn't have any information on her other than Marius had kept her in a different location, isolated from the others and her mutation was deadly to the touch.

Yet for someone with such deadly skin, she wasn't too overly concerned with touching and being touched even through all the layers she wore. After what Remy had gone through when his mutation came into its full power, Jean-Luc would expect her to flinch when anyone got too near if she had no control as was the claim. Poor Remy had jumped at his own shadow, but they'd worked through it until he felt he was no longer a threat to everything he touched. Rogue exuded that same ease now.

So either she had control over her powers or she wasn't near as deadly as was rumored. Even the reports from others who'd witnessed the incident in the master thief training room said she only incapacitated Remy instead of knocking him out. Still, there was one rule that a good thief lived by: trust your instinct. And his instinct right now was telling him that she was hiding something big. He would have to do a little digging to find out her exact game.

Finally indulging her question, he answered: "For now, y' both will slowly take on more duties. At first, only Rogue will be responsible for de Assassins Guild and Remy for de Thieves Guild. That will progress int' joint contracts. Only when _both_ Marius and I believe yo' ready will full power be handed over t' y'."

Remy's eyes narrowed as he picked up on only one thing, "What do y' mean, 'joint contracts'?"

"Those are still some things that need t' be worked out. Y' can go 'bout yo' usual routines for now." Jean-Luc vaguely brushed the question aside with a wave of his hand, dissuading his son from questioning that particular point any further.

Recognizing the dismissal for what it was, Rogue stood. "Okay. Ah'm sure _père_ will tell me what it is Ah'm s'pose ta do."

"_Ouis_. I'm positive he will." Jean-Luc agreed. He watched as she nodded and headed toward his door.

Remy hadn't moved. He wasn't finished with his father. The transfer of power wasn't sitting well with him and he didn't intend to leave until he said his peace.

"Somethin' still botherin' y', _garçon_?" Jean-Luc turned back to Remy.

"_Ouais_, _mais _it ain't nothin' y' haven't told me before t' just shut up and accept." His tone was beyond petulant, bordering on insubordinate.

Ignoring it for now, Jean-Luc decided to instead focus on another one of Remy's attitude problems. "There's somethin' else y' need t' accept and that's de fact that Rogue is yo' wife now."

The change in subject set Remy ablaze. "I _don't _need t' be reminded of that! Trust me, if I could get rid of her, I would."

Jean-Luc's eyes hardened as he slammed his fist down on his desk. "And that's exactly what I'm talkin' 'bout. Regardless of de circumstances, de _deux _a' y' are married and that ain't gon' change. We've already discussed this. There'll be no divorce or any other way out of it and y' agreed t' as much at de church that day. I believe yo' exact words were: 'I withdraw my objections and will honor this union.' Y' need t' start actin' civil if nothin' else toward her-"

"-And if I don't _want _t' get along wit' her?" Remy started to object, sitting forward to argue his point.

Jean-Luc raised his hand to silence him, putting his foot down on the matter. "No more antogonizin' fights. I don't care if y' start it or she does. Yo' gon' be de one t' end it. At de very least, do it in private. De constant bickering doesn't show a strong, united front to lead de Unified Guild. It doesn't prove that yo' willin' t' honor yo' union."

"_Entendu_!" Remy sucked his cheeks in on a sulk, crossed his arms over his chest, and slumped back into the chair again.

Jean-Luc's anger deflated as he resumed the role of father instead of Guildmaster. "I know this is not what y' had planned and I can't begin t' step int' yo' shoes and understand. But what's done is done. Y' can either accept it and make good a' de situation or y' can be miserable de rest a' yo' life. Yo' gon' have plenty a' time t' learn while on yo' joint contracts. _Try_ t' find somethin' 'bout her y' like."

Remy was ready to begrudgingly accept his father's advice even though he wanted nothing to do with it. That was until he mentioned those joint contracts again.

"I ain't no assassin." He vehemently rejected.

"No," Jean-Luc regretted that his son would have to go through the killings in order to prove himself. "Yo' not. Rogue will be responsible for fulfillin' de contract. Y'll just be gon' along t' better understand de Assassins Guild."

"_Très bien_." Remy stood up, not wanting to discuss the matters a second longer. He'd only made it a few steps when Jean-Luc called him back.

"Remy? I hear Jackson's torn knee ligaments are gon' put him out for de season." He didn't look away from the seat where Remy had just been.

"_Ouais_. _Et?" _Remy tried to play off as if he didn't know what that meant.

"_Et_…I do believe y' owe me _cinq _assignations, _deux_ clenches, and _un contre-temps_." His father announced.

Remy dropped his head back, looking toward the ceiling as he let out a deep sigh. He'd actually heard the same earlier that morning and knew what was coming. At least it would get him out of the house and away from Rogue.

"_D'accord!"_ He raised his voice in aggravation.

"Go prep now. I'll have de first one ready for y' later t'day." Jean-Luc dismissed Remy. As he was about to exit, he called out to his son, "And Remy?"

He waited for the younger man's full attention before he added, "Be sure yo' on yo' best behavior when yo' away. De assassins will no doubt be watchin' and they may view this as a violation."

A silver lining suddenly appeared as Remy's eyes glinted with mischief. "Then why go at all?"

"We're thieves. Better t' ask forgiveness than permission." Jean-Luc's smirk countered Remy's grimace.

**(X)-(X)-(X)**

Rogue slowly wandered down the stairs as she made her way toward the dining room. Saturday night was Tante's night out, so the family was on their own for dinner. If anyone was left in the house, they usually still congregated for a hodge podge meal of leftovers, take-out, or delivery. But tonight the formal dining room was empty. Before Rogue could make her way into the kitchen for a lonely meal of cold fried chicken, Henri and Mercy thudded down the stairs. It looked like they were heading out for a date.

"_Merde_. I forgot my lipstick upstairs." Mercy stopped dead in her tracks.

"So? Y' look _très magnifique._ Go wit'out it." Henri countered.

She objected as if he asked her to leave a child behind instead. "_Non! _My lips are chapped and it's got a built in lip balm."

Before he could stop her, she spun around and was half up the first flight of stairs again. With a sigh, Henri resigned himself to wait in the dining room until she returned. It was then that he noticed Rogue for the first time.

"I'm surprised yo' not gon' out t'night." Henri absentmindedly commented as he took a seat.

All Rogue answered was, "Can't."

"Why not?" He lazily stretched his feet out in front of him as he crossed his arms. "Figured wit' Remy bein' outta de house, y'd be livin' it up in town wit' some friends or somethin'."

Henri's statement was news to her. Remy had left? Though their arrangements hadn't explicitly been discussed, it was like an unspoken rule that they wouldn't go out without each other to prevent anyone from suspicioning the treaty was in jeopardy. Now he'd not only broken said rule, he also hadn't bothered to let her in on his plans.

"Hope whatever poker game or bar he's visitin' is worth the fallout if anyone notices him out without me." She sulked, her temper slowly simmering to life.

"_Attendez une minute_," Henri started as he sat up. "Y' don't know, do y'?"

It was Rogue's turn to cross her arms as she leaned her hip against the table. "Know what?"

Henri shook his head as a soft curse fell from his lips. He was upset at his brother's lack of manners. They'd both been raised as if they were nobility, manners and etiquette drilled into them as much as lock picking and stealth. Remy knew the proper way to treat a lady, even if she was more tramp than countess. Granted, Henri wasn't sure he'd be able to keep his temper in check if Mercy had been switched out with some other woman when they were married. But he at least would have known to act respectful of the woman that would have been his wife. This was the second time that his little brother had disregarded his upbringing in favor petulant sulking. Henri would have to have a talk with Remy about some common courtesies he seemed to be forgetting.

Looking back up to her, he said, "_Père _sent Remy on one of his solo missions for losin' de bet. Jackson's out for de season."

"Oh." Rogue's face fell a little, her anger deflating.

It wasn't Remy's choice to go on a mission tonight. If she'd known that's what was going on, she might have even taken some pleasure in ribbing him a bit for losing the bet. Of course that was if they had a different relationship where teasing was innocent instead of being viewed as vindictive. Still, Remy could have told her he was leaving and he opted to sneak out in an underhanded way. Even a note would have sufficed, though still annoyed her. The simmering rage settled into a sulking irritation. If he thought he'd just silently slip away, he'd have another thing coming when he got back. She'd be sure he wouldn't forget to tell her he was leaving again.

By this time, Mercy had retrieved her lipstick and skipped into the dining room. "_Vas bien_, I'm ready."

Sensing she'd missed something while she was upstairs, she threw a quick look over to Henri. With a near imperceptible shake of his head, Mercy glanced in her peripheral vision at Rogue. Things weren't good, though the reason why would have to wait until she could speak with her husband alone. Tilting her head in Rogue's direction, she silently indicated the other woman should go with them.

Catching his wife's drift, Henri said, "Yo' welcome t' come out wit' us t'night."

Rogue shook away her thoughts of payback to politely decline. "Thanks, but y'all are goin' out on a date."

"_Balivernes_," Mercy waved her off. "We're just gon' down t' Mazoo's t' watch de LSU game."

Rogue bit her lip as she thought over the offer. Even though she'd never been, she was familiar with the reputation of the popular sports bar. She also was a huge football fan, though she never became as fanatic over college ball as she did the NFL during her weekends with Gris Gris. It was only during football season that their training schedule was arranged around game times as opposed to taking top priority.

It would be nice to watch the game with someone again. She'd spent most of last season by herself and missed more than half the games since Marius had her out on contracts. Not to mention it would be her first real outing from the manor since she'd married Remy. At the same time, she'd seen the wordless exchange between Mercy and Henri. Rogue somehow got the feeling the invitation was out of pity rather than any real desire for her to go.

"C'mon, it'll be fun." Mercy walked over, nudging Rogue's shoulder with her own. When Rogue still didn't react, she suddenly had second thoughts. "Unless a' course y' don't like football…"

"No, Ah love football although the Saints are really my favorite." But before Rogue could say anything more, Mercy grabbed her hand and started pulling her toward the door.

"_Bon_, it's settled then. We're gon' watch us some hot young men in tight pants t'night." Mercy winked at her as Henri groaned behind them. They both imagined the accompanying eye roll.

**(X)-(X)-(X)**

Remy sat on the edge of the bed in his hotel room, the first time he'd been completely alone since he'd been forced into the farce of the marriage. Jean-Luc arranged the _contre-temps_ first in case the assassins objected to any further solo jobs. It was the most difficult, but it had the highest payoff. It also meant a long and tiring day.

Using the stolen prototype of Hypermach's SonicStar intended to replace the Concorde, he'd flown to London in just three hours. After landing at a guild safe house, he'd driven into London where he immediately began casing Shakespeare's Birthplace by taking on the role of tourist. The location was small and what he'd been sent for wasn't on display. Since part of the house wasn't open to the public tour, he'd checked into his hotel to wait it out until dark.

Later tonight he'd go back, pick apart the house's security, find the only known existing lock of Shakespeare's hair, and then figure out the best time to pull off the heist. Even though the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust had questioned the hairs' authenticity, the Thieves Guild had evidence the lock was in fact real and not the work of early nineteenth century forger William Henry Ireland. And it meant it was worth millions to the right bidder.

In the meantime, Remy was required to do nothing more than lay low and relax. Unfortunately, his mind was a mess. On the flight over, he'd seriously considered his father's commandment. With a few hours to mull over the confrontation, Jean-Luc's decree wasn't unreasonable. No matter the circumstances that made Rogue his wife, the time was quickly approaching that they would be required to take over guild leadership.

He'd never really stopped to think about the challenges they would face when unifying the guilds, but it wasn't going to be smooth as silk. No, it would probably be the exact opposite to the tenth power. He and Rogue _would_ need to stand as a united front to keep the peace between those guild members who didn't want the unification. If they couldn't set the example, how did they ever expect the lower ranking members to cooperate with each other? And how would the higher ranking members ever respect their authority? They'd constantly be fighting off attempts to over throw them and restart the wars.

As for Jean-Luc's words of advice, Remy had to begrudgingly admit they were true as well. There would be no getting out of the marriage with Rogue. Besides, he couldn't fathom spending the next seventy or more years of his life hating someone as much as he did her. And it wasn't as if he really hated _her_, but rather how her sudden appearance had ruined his life plan.

Honestly, he didn't know much about her to truly hate her the way he did Marius or Julien. She claimed she couldn't be touched because of her mutation, though she was awfully cavalier in regards to her sleeping attire. She was a good fighter that played dirty when cornered. She liked spicebush swallowtails. She was a lifelong loner.

And all Remy had done was blame her for Marius' deception.

Now that he sat down and really thought about it, he'd antagonized her from the start. Their first dance at the reception was the first time he'd actually talked to her. Even then he'd pushed her boundaries to see if he could find a loophole. For the last few weeks, all he'd been doing was looking for loopholes even though he'd agreed he wouldn't. Still, his father was right. He needed to find at least one thing they had in common so that he could focus on that when the Unified Guild required their public leadership.

But giving in and accepting Rogue as his partner and wife felt like he was betraying the love he had for Bella Donna. There still was no word on where she was and what had happened. He'd even contacted several of his best sources multiple times a day, but there were no leads.

And even if there were, what was he going to do with her when she came back? He couldn't continue their love affair without breaking the treaty forged by his marriage with Rogue. And if Belle removed Rogue from the picture, it would doubly violate the treaty in addition to ensuring they would never be able to marry in the Catholic Church due to the canon law of Crimen.

The only option he could come up with kept wriggling in his head like a worm into a piece of rotted fruit. He would have to convince Belle to run away with him. Leave all of the guild mess behind them and start over fresh somewhere. They still wouldn't be able to marry since he wouldn't be available in New Orleans to petition an annulment, but maybe Belle would just be happy that they were together instead of needing to be married.

Who was he kidding? Bella Donna Boudreaux would never agree to be his mistress while he was married to someone else.

Frustrated, Remy ran his hands through his hair and roughly tugged on the strands. It was no use to come up with these scenarios until Belle was back. And that meant placing another call to all of his contacts. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled to the first name in the list and pressed send.

Before he could ever get out a word, the man on the other end said, "For de last time, LeBeau. There's been no word. I can't give y' what I don't have."

"_D'accord, d'accord." _Remy apologized, but was only met with the sound of the call disconnecting.

Moving on to the next, he decided he wouldn't be able to concentrate on tonight's surveillance until he had the peace of mind that he'd tried his best to find Bella Donna again.

**(X)**

_Entendu_! - Heard!

_Attendez une minute_ _- _Wait a minute

_Balivernes_ - Nonsense


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N:** WARNING: This chapter has graphic torture. If you're squeamish or just don't want to read the violence, skip the section between the (XXX)-(XXX)-(XXX).

The Wayne & Garth/Bill & Ted debate (along with a ton of other funny ones) can be found at .

**SIDE NOTE: **If you read the chapter in the first hour of it being originally posted, please re-read it. That was the raw, unedited copy that had a few flaws outside of just grammatical problems.

**Thanks **to** couplest, Avid reader, Suze Nora, Warrior-princess1980, RRL24, NanamiYatsumaki,** and all the guest reviews and new followers!

.

**Chapter 12**

Rogue bumped Etienne's shoulder as they walked down the hall on the second floor. "Please, everyone knows Wayne & Garth would so totally beat Bill & Ted's asses. Not only are they both clueless, they're just wimpy."

They'd just finished up another training routine and she had followed him back to his room for a guide on advanced Savate techniques he thought she might find interesting. The current topic of conversation had been started when she'd said she was hungry and he'd mentioned twinkies for their excellent sugar rush. Recognizing the line from _Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure, _Rogue teased him for the quote and thus Etienne's favorite guilty pleasure movie was revealed.

"Whatever! Bill & Ted travelled through time just t' pass high school history. Even if they did lose, they could just jump in their phone booth time machine and change de outcome." Etienne argued back as he handed her the book.

Rogue just rolled her eyes. "That proves my point even more! Bill & Ted can't do anythin' without help from the future."

"Well," Etienne good-naturedly huffed, "while I'd like t' continue this _debate_, I have a score t' prep for."

He stuck his nose up in the air for just a moment, as if he was better than her because of his status in the guild. The joke quickly fell apart when they both started laughing at his snooty airs.

"I'll see y' Wednesday?" He smiled at her.

"Like, totally, dude." Rogue teased back.

As she walked down the hall, her cell buzzed in her jacket pocket. Pulling out the phone, she groaned when she saw Marius' name blink with every vibration. Rogue knew she couldn't let it go to voicemail, but she needed more privacy to speak with her adopted father than what the second floor allowed. Rushing down the hall, she ducked into the empty family dining room. She should have relative peace in there since it was well after lunch and long before dinner.

"_Allô_." She greeted her father in French as if she didn't know the reason for his call.

"_Do not 'allô'_ _me, _daughter." Marius spat the last word. "_When I agreed y' could be _sub rosa_, it was under de condition that y' provide regular updates. It's been almost _deux_ weeks since we last spoke."_

Rogue hesitated as she decided what to say. She couldn't very well tell them that Remy wasn't at home right now. It would be viewed as a break in the treaty. If the assassins didn't already know it, she wasn't going to supply that information. She didn't want to give them any reason to start a war over something as trivial as a lost bet. The truth seemed best, or at least as much of the truth as she was willing to admit.

"_Remy still won't have anythin' ta do with me, but Ah've gotten close ta his family. Some even trust me now." _Other than Etienne, Rogue thought she lied about the last part.

"_Yo' not there t' make _amis_." _Marius berated, only serving to stoke her ire.

"Non_. But don't ya think Ah should be their friend if Ah'm ta get in close? Even some of our contracts call for honey over vinegar." _She countered.

Marius was silent for a long minute. As he let her stew, Rogue was afraid she'd pushed the line on insolence and he was deciding to remove her in lieu of some backup plan.

"_Y' were s'pose t' eliminate LeBeau on yo' weddin' night and yet y' failed."_ Underlining his reprimand was an almost delight in her shortcoming, as if she was giving him what he desperately wanted.

Even if she had stuck with the plan, Remy storming out on their wedding night ensured she wouldn't have been able to follow through. But Rogue was smart enough not to argue the point.

She promised the only thing she could. "_Ah'll do better." _

"_I'll not have all of de power of de Assassins Guild transferred t' de likes a' yo' leadership or in de hands of those _rats de gouttière. _Y' will resolve this before de Unification Quadroon._" The threat hung between them. Marius didn't need to elaborate the consequences.

"_Oui, père." _The admission tasted bitter in her mouth.

"_Y' force me t' continue cooperatin' wit' Jean-Luc." _Marius' true feelings about the other Guildmaster had never been a secret.

Seeing an opportunity to get the focus off of her and onto something else, Rogue asked: "_Ah'm goin' on joint contracts with Remy?"_

There was a huff on the other end of the line. "_If y' continue t' draw out yo' duty, _oui_. But it's not been determined yet. If it comes t' that, I'll contact y' when it's settled." _

The call went dead after that and Rogue checked her phone to make sure she hadn't lost the signal. Instead, the display showed Marius had ended the call. Rogue started at the screen for a moment, caught in a paradox of not believing he'd just hang up and knowing that he'd do exactly that. Without looking up as she put it back in her pocket, she headed out of the dining room and smack into Theoren.

"Have a nice conversation wit' yo' fellow assassins?" He stood tall, his chest a firm wall preventing her from dodging to either side.

"No, just keepin' in touch with my _père_." Rogue smoothly lied, hoping he hadn't overheard too much.

He looked at her a long time. She could tell he didn't believe her, but her side of the conversation was pretty benign. Even if he'd heard the whole thing, she didn't really say anything that gave away Marius' plan.

"I hope that's all it is." He finally relented, stepping aside so she could pass. "I'd sure hate t' think my new _cousine_ was plottin' anythin' nefarious. There sure are a lot a' people keepin' a real close eye on things."

Rogue didn't miss his thinly veiled threat. In the few interactions they'd had with each other, she'd suspicioned that he didn't like her. And Theoren confirmed just as much.

"Ah guess they'll just have ta find somethin' else ta gossip 'bout. Ah ain't got nothin' ta hide." She spread her arms open wide as she snarked back at him and slipped past.

He just grunted in return, but watched as she walked down the hall. Something fishy was going on with her. He would be sure to tell _Noncle Jean-Luc_, but he also vowed to be more vigilant where she was concerned. If his uncle didn't already know her secrets, Theoren was going to do his best to ferret them out.

**(X)-(X)-(X)**

The world was hazy. It was hard to stay focused, to stay awake. Even though it was so close, sleep seemed so far away. It wasn't something that could be reached for and caught. The dim room bobbed back and forth with the dance of a nodding head. Everything was quiet, but peace was elusive. And suddenly there was blinding light.

"Are y' ready for yo' bath, _princesse_?" Renault asked, carting a hospital wash basin filled with soapy water.

Two towels were slung over his pudgy shoulders: one damp for wiping away the suds and one dry for wicking away the leftover moisture. Though she could barely raise her head, Bella Donna knew an oversized sea sponge was floating in the water. She barely managed a guttural mumble before her head lolled forward against her chest.

She'd been sitting in the same damned chair, her arms still chained behind her, for only God knew how long. Time had long ago become a lost concept to her. Renault's routine was unwavering and in all that time, he'd never adjusted her position to allow her to lie down or stand up to stretch. And she'd had to endure countless "baths for her hygiene".

"Now, now _princesse_. Yo' _père _told me t' take care a' y' as I see fit. Y' wouldn't be a very good guest if y' continue t' complain like that." The balding man answered.

He put down the bathing supplies before turning his attention to unbuttoning her shirt. But as he pushed the fabric free from her shoulder, his meaty hands brushing against the exposed swell of her breasts, he noticed her raw and bloody wrists for the first time.

"_Princesse! _What have y' done t' yo'self?" He gingerly held her chained hands as he examined the chaffed wounds. "These must be cleaned or y'll get an infection. Wouldn't want that now, would we? Y' must be returned t' yo'_ père_ in exactly de same condition as when I received y' int' my care."

Belle internally scoffed at that. Physically she probably would be the same when she finally got home. But the paunchy priest had roamed every inch of her body, his fluids sometimes sullying her skin before he washed her. There was no way she was the same mentally. And between her missed marriage to Remy and Renault's abuse, she was hell bent on revenge. When the time came, everyone would know she'd been raised an assassin.

"Y' just sit tight, _princesse_, and I'll be right back." He patted her shoulder.

The items he left behind would do her no good, but she took stock of them anyway. Her training had drilled into her to always be observant of everything around her. And several years had been dedicated to turning _anything_ into a deadly weapon.

Renault had been gone less than a minute when he puttered back in, a set of keys jangling in his hands. "We'll just get those cuffs off y' and clean y' right up, _princesse_."

Bella Donna felt his hands brush down her arms to her wrists. The keys were juggled over her bindings as he tried to find the right one. The others on the ring smacked into her raw flesh. After several minutes, a soft click filled the air as the metal cuffs gave way. With just that inch of freedom, Bella Donna jumped into action. Her feet were bound to the legs of the chair, but she was free to move everything else.

Grabbing the heavy chain before it fell to the floor, she swung it like a sling shot. The iron fetters acted like a flail, striking true to her intended target: Renault's head.

"_Princesse!" _The man stumbled, shocked that she could move so quickly.

"I've had enough a' yo' simperin' and filthy hands all over me. It's time y' meet yo' maker…in hell!" Bella Donna bit back.

Before he could regain his wits and attempt to subdue her, she whipped the chain around again. This time, Renault went down for the count. Panting at the exertion, she collapsed back into the chair. It was amazing that she'd managed just that little bit of strength after being tied in one position for so long.

Then again, her shoulders screamed in pain and her back cramped with spasms. Her knees had popped the minute she'd stood up. The self-inflicted wounds on her wrists stung with the exposure to air. She'd not been able to think of any other way to escape. And now blood was rushing to her head, black dots swimming in her vision and threatening to take over her consciousness. The last thing she needed was to pass out only to wake up to Renault tying her up again.

Leaning forward, Belle put her head between her knees. She filled her lungs with slow, deep breaths as she tried to calm the feint sensation. When she felt like she had regained some control, she aggressively started to work on the bindings around her legs.

The restraints were simple: a plain nylon rope wrapped from her ankles to midway up her calves with very simple square knots tying the ends. The problem was that the knots had then been burned until the fibers melted together. An interesting set up considering the rope would have to be cut if Renault had ever decided to move her. He'd intended for her to stay exactly where she was until _he _was ready to release her.

Carefully rising up, she looked around for something sharp to cut through the ropes. The room had been kept sparse in the first place. Only she, the chair, and the restraints were constants. And the metal chair was bolted to the floor. The bathing supplies Renault brought in weren't any help either. That left anything on his body and the keys.

Lunging for those first, Bella Donna checked the edges to see if any were sharp enough to fray the rope. Disappointment filled her when she realized all of them were old and very worn down. It would take hours to splice the rope enough to get free. Sure, she could keep knocking out Renault while she worked at it, but she had a special revenge in store for him. She didn't want him prematurely dying.

Besides, she didn't know if there were any others that never bothered to visit her or if there were any communications he would need to answer on a set schedule. She didn't want to bring attention to her escape until she was far enough away from wherever they were.

With disgust, she turned toward Renault's flabby body. Before she ever laid a hand on him, a memory popped into her head. All of the Catholic male assassins carried modified rosaries. Either a small knife was concealed in the cross or the edges had been sharpened to razor edges. If Renault was working on her father's orders as he claimed, he should have one of the weaponized pieces. Man of the cloth or not, following the Patriarch of the Assassins meant he was more worldly than Godly.

Digging around in his pockets proved no luck for Bella Donna. Of course, it was the easiest place to reach. Undoing a couple buttons on his shirt showed her he wasn't wearing it on his neck either. That usually left only the front of the belt as the last logical place. But even with his fat gut in the way, she could tell it wasn't there. About to give up hope, her eye caught on a corner of gleaming silver stuck under his ass. Groaning, Belle rolled her eyes to the sky as she realized it was in his back pocket. What a stupid fuck to carry his rosary in his back pocket where it could jab him when he sat down.

Leaning forward, the piece of silver was barely within reach. Even then, she couldn't get a good grip on it with his large weight. Inching it out millimeter by millimeter, she finally saw the arms of the cross slip out enough that she could get her fingers under it and pull. It didn't matter if the beads broke or not. Renault did in fact have a sword cross and all she needed was the pointed bottom to dig into the fibers of the rope.

Surprisingly, the whole chain of obsidian stones came free and she set to work right away. With the sharpened edge, she'd be free in no time. And Renault would die a slow and painful death.

**(XXX)-(XXX)-(XXX)**

It had taken an hour for Renault to come out of his unconscious stupor, but that was okay. Bella Donna had had plenty of time to strap him into the chair the same way he'd kept her, except for the fact that she had totally relieved him of his clothing. She'd found another chair in the room just outside of hers and brought it in to wait for his awakening. As the man groaned into consciousness, she leaned forward in the chair.

"Uhhh, shouldn't've had that last drink." Renault complained as he gingerly shook his head back and forth.

When he reached to run his hands through his hair, he finally realized his arms were chained behind him. His eyes shot open as he first looked at his nakedness and then darted around the room. "_L'enfer?"_

Belle slowly stood, sauntering over to stand behind Renault. Even as her thoughts focused on retaliation, she could see in his eyes that his were still centered around lust.

Bending over, she placed her lips by his ear. Her breath ghosted across the sensitive shell as she whispered: "If payback's a bitch and revenge is sweet, then I'm de _sweetest bitch_ y'll ever meet."

"Now _princesse-"_ Renault tried, but Bella Donna quickly stood up and cuffed him across the back of the head.

"I'll hear no pleas. No begs for mercy. De time has come and gone when y' could've been rewarded for yo' actions. Now y'll pay for 'em wit' yo' life." Belle said as she grasped one of his meaty hands in hers.

She hadn't really been surprised when she found the items she wanted in the other room. But then again, she'd only needed two common tools: a razor blade and a pair of heavy duty shears. Lightly fondling the sausage like digits, she sensuously teased her fingers across his to relax him into a false sense of security.

"The way yo' hands moved over my body," Bella Donna started in a low husky voice. But as she separated the pinky away from the other fingers, the tenderness turned venomous. "Is _not _de way my _père _would instruct y' t' treat me."

Placing the blades around the fatty appendage in a firm grip, she used both hands to close the shears until the finger snapped off.

"AAAHHH!" As Renault screamed in agony, his breath coming out in panicked gasps, she grabbed a handful of what was left of his thinning hair.

Jerking his head back until his eyes met the hatred in hers, she leaned over and spat in his face, "Y'll never touch another person de way y' did me."

Bella Donna shoved his head forward and moved on to the next finger. Renault tried to ball his hands into fists, but she just used the shears to needle into the lubricated grooves that were slick with blood.

"Plea…plea…," Renault gasped. "Please, _prin-cesse_."

"Even _God's_ ears are deaf t' yo' prayers_." _Belle snapped another finger off and moved to the next.

When at last all of his fingers lay on the floor, his stumpy palms twitching in pain, she walked back in front of him. Renault was delirious with pain. His head lolled as unconsciousness tried to take over. But instead of letting him pass out into sweet oblivion, Belle reared back and slapped his cheek as hard as she could. He jumped alert at the newest pain, refocusing his blurry vision on her.

Though she'd tied him up the same way he had her, she did make one modification. Instead of tying his legs to the chair, she stretched his out in front and restrained him spread eagle to rings in the floor. His genitals were exposed from his overweight mass.

Kneeling down in front of him, she made sure she had his attention before she said: "Now Monsignor Renault, it's time t' cleanse yo' soul. Pray wit' me, won't y'? Hail Mary, full of grace…"

Bella Donna waited until he finished out the line on a panted breath. "De Lord is wit' ye."

Knowing he had caught her drift, she spoke the next line with him. "Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is de fruit of thy womb, Jesus."

The prayer was slow going in Renault's weakened state, but Belle was more than willing to give him the time before they continued. "Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners…"

Finally getting to the point she wanted to make, she didn't bother to wait for him to catch his breath as she surged forward with a strong: "Now at de hour a' yo' death. Amen."

"_Non, non, non…" _Renault begged. His eyes widened as she took a handful of his genitals. With the dull razor blade, she sawed back and forth across the fleshy sacs.

"Aaagggh…" His gurgling screams were swallowed by the unawareness of his brain shutting down from the extreme pain.

As his blood squirted across her face and chest, Bella Donna didn't slow down until he was completely castrated. Once his privates came free in her hand, she tossed them to the ground. Standing slowly, she brought her booted foot down on the discarded flesh and squished it into the cement floor. Taking one last look at her abusive attacker, she tossed the shears and razor blade aside before leaving the room. She desperately needed a shower.

**(XXX)-(XXX)-(XXX)**

Feeling somewhat vindicated, Belle was finally ready to make her way home and seek comfort from her ordeal in Remy's arms. Once she'd filled him in on what she'd been through, they'd both tell her father and get to the bottom of whose orders Renault was _really_ following. Then they'd be back on track to be married as soon as Marius could arrange it.

After stringing up Renault, she'd checked the compound to make sure no one else was waiting to recapture her. None of the rooms had any windows and there had only been the one exterior door with a heavy metal bar across it. Satisfied that they were alone, she'd temporarily set aside everything else except her revenge. Now that it was complete, she made her way through the simple three room building and unbolted the door.

Flinging open the heavy barricade, she was momentarily blinded by the bright light of the sun reflecting off sand dunes. As her eyes fought to adjust, she brought her hand up to help shield against the blindness. Stepping out of the compound, Bella Donna looked around to see only a diesel generator attached to the side of the building and a small, gas-powered Jeep parked in the little bit of shade that was available. No wires or cables connected the location to the outside world. And she hadn't been able to find whether Renault had a satellite phone or not. The only other thing that she could see for miles and miles was thousands of golden brown sand dunes. She had absolutely no clue where in the world she was.

Going back inside, she ransacked the place for supplies. She found a backpack and quickly filled it with plenty of water, but there was very little in rations she could take with her. She would just have to be frugal about the things she was able to find. There was also a decent knife, a flashlight, a box of matches, leftover nylon rope, and a wool blanket. But after tearing apart every cabinet, drawer, nook, and cranny, she still couldn't find Renault's phone, the Jeep's keys, maps, or anything else that indicated where they were.

With her backpack fully packed, Bella Donna trudged back out to the Jeep. Climbing into the driver's side, she checked the visor, the ignition, and the glove box. No keys. Not that it would do her much good because the Jeep only had a quarter of a tank. Either they were close to civilization or Renault had gas stored wherever the keys were.

"_Merde_." Belle banged her forehead against the steering wheel. Not satisfied with the outlet of frustration, she took her anger out on the dashboard as she beat her open palms against the plastic console. "_Foutre, foutre, foutre, foutre!"_

Bella Donna climbed out of the Jeep. Her only clue as to her location was the license plate on the off-road vehicle. Though she didn't know where it was from, she knew it wasn't one used anywhere in North America. Combined with the landscape, her best guess was that she was somewhere in Africa.

Reaching back into the Jeep, she grabbed the pair of sunglasses inside before sliding them on and looking up at the sun. Fortunately, she knew how to read direction based on the sun's location. And her best guess was to start heading west. Eventually she'd run into the Atlantic Ocean. She just hoped her supplies would last however far she had to walk.

**(X)**

_rats de gouttière_ – gutter rats

_L'enfer? _– The hell?

_Foutre _- Fuck


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N:** Someone asked why I've not been updating my site. The short answer is I've been lazy about it recently. But the site is just a backup in case the fics here are ever purged. The actual fic contents are the same between the two places, though there's some bonus items like polls, pics, and notes for anyone interested.

**Thanks** to **Avid reader, couplest, Suze Nora, NanamiYatsumaki, RRL24, Warrior-princess1980**, and all the guest reviews, followers, and favoriters!

**Chapter 13**

Remy leisurely stretched in bed as he slowly woke up. It had been so nice to have a bed completely to himself again while he was gone that he hadn't been about to sneak into his room late last night when he returned only to have to sleep on top of the covers again. So instead, he pushed past the fatigue of the last few days and stayed up the extra few hours.

After securing Shakespeare's hair in the vault and leaving a note on his father's desk, he headed to the master thief training room and worked his tired body into the mid-morning. Once he was sure Rogue would be up for the day, he sneaked upstairs, pulled the blackout curtains shut, and relaxed into his once again oversized bed.

Now that he'd had some time to relax, he reflected over the heist well done. Remy had figured out the _contre-temps _part of the assignment when he realized the only time the damn thing was not guarded was during the five minutes at noon that the daytime security officer spent in the loo after lunch.

Five minutes to sneak in and out seemed like a piece of cake. But the room had double redundant security and cracking both the bio-scanner (easy) and vault lock (harder) had been a true test of his skills. By the time Remy had left, he'd only had half a minute to spare and blend back in with the latest tour group. Believe it or not, it actually had been a bit stressful to a master thief like him. He'd even sweated a little there at the end.

Rolling onto his stomach and sprawling out as much as he could, Remy luxuriated in the last few minutes of hogging the covers before he resigned himself to getting up. A few hours of restful sleep and he was up just in time for opening kickoff in the Saints game.

Crawling out of bed, he headed over to his closet to find his lucky game-day jersey. Every time he wore it, the Saints won. He'd even gone as far as not washing it in 2010 and the team went on to win the Super Bowl. But when his black number 43 Sproles jersey wasn't in its usual place, he started rummaging through his closet.

After only a few minutes, it was evident that the shirt wasn't where he normally kept it. Frustrated, Remy pulled out a plain black tee and his relaxed fit jeans before slamming the door shut and heading into the bathroom. He'd find Tante after he'd rinsed off and brushed his teeth.

Since he'd showered after training earlier in the morning, it didn't take him long to go through his morning routine and get dressed. He decided to start in the kitchen even though Tante usually didn't have to worry about cooking lunch during the NFL season. When he didn't find her in there, he figured he'd ask his brother if she was around.

Heading into the media room, he found Henri, Mercy, Emil, Theoren, a few other higher ranking thieves, and of course his seemingly ever present wife. And what was she wearing? Why none other than his missing Sproles jersey.

Walking up behind the sectional where she was sitting next to Mercy, he pinched a handful of the jersey's shoulder as he roughly tugged on it. "I think this belongs t' me." His voice was stony.

Rogue jumped a little at the unexpected contact, but set her jaw in a clench when she recognized Remy's voice. Slowly turning, she looked up at him and said, "Ah think it don't."

She'd always been impressed by Sproles' skills. But when the San Diego Chargers released him and the Saints picked him up, he became her favorite guy. She loved watching him play since his relatively short 5'6" stature could dive through the smallest openings or fly over a defensive line for an amazing touchdown.

Remembering his father's words, he quietly demanded, "Give it back."

Fury flashed in Rogue's eyes, but she matched his tone as she flatly answered, "No."

"_Now!_" Remy whisper-yelled, expectantly holding out his hand.

So far, only Mercy and Henri were aware of their interaction. Everyone else was enjoying the spread of chips, dips, pizza, beer, hot wings, and the pre-game show. Wanting to keep the room's relative good mood, Rogue wordlessly stood up, ripped the jersey over her head, and flung it at his chest before storming off.

Though she'd left quickly, Remy still got an eyeful of the sinfully tight black tank stretched over her braless breasts and the short Saints booty shorts that clung to the toned curves of her thighs and butt. Even with the black leggings and sequined gold gloves covering the rest of her skin, a twitch stirred in his jeans. Chocking it up to not having had sex in weeks, he suppressed the sudden desire.

"Well thanks for suckin' de fun out of de room." Mercy mouthed off, remaining seated on the couch next to Henri. She wouldn't even turn around to face him. "Could y' _be_ any more of a selfish prick?"

"What de hell did I do? It's my damn jersey!" Remy cried a little too loudly.

The others in the room looked over at him. He and Mercy played it cool for a minute until the focus was off of them again.

"Do y' even know anythin' 'bout yo' wife?" Finally, she spun around to face him. Her knees were digging into the cushion as she raised up to add some height. "Do y' even _care_?"

Mercy suspected the truth, but Remy's silence confirmed it. Though she hadn't really been let in on what happened at the chapterhouse the day of the wedding, she did know that Rogue was in a somewhat similar situation as she had been.

It had taken a year of steady dating before Henri would even agree to bring her home to meet his family. After that, Henri had taken another year to propose and it was another two years after that when they finally trusted her enough to reveal their thieving background and set a wedding date. Having grown up with an abusive father and a drug addicted mother who had left in the middle of the night, Mercy thought the thieves were mild compared to the hell she'd already been through. While the thieves weren't exactly the life she would have chosen for herself, Mercy was grateful for the loving family she gained and the sense of security that no one would ever hurt her again.

From the little bit she'd gotten to know Rogue, the newest addition to the LeBeau family had the same story. She didn't have warm and fuzzy childhood memories of a loving, supportive family. The life she was thrust into wasn't one she would have chosen for herself. She'd made a lot of concessions to please everyone else, but didn't seem to have ever had the opportunity to do what made _her _happy. And now that she was away from the influence of the assassins', she was still living as if her life was under a microscope of expectations and obligations. Her adjustment period would be just as slow, but Mercy hoped in the end she would come to find the same love and security.

"Y' know," She kept her voice low so the others wouldn't overhear. "If y' even tried t' get t' know her, y' might find y' actually like her. Y' _deux_ have a lot in common. Like Sproles bein' yo' favorite player."

Remy simply stared down his sister-in-law until she huffed and turned back around on the couch. When he was sure no one was looking, he surreptitiously checked the size on the jersey. His was an XL, but this one was a medium. It really was Rogue's, but she'd given it over after he'd acted like a fool. Why would she back down when she knew she was right? It was yet another mystery about her that he needed to unravel.

Bunching the jersey in his hand, he left the room and headed back upstairs. Though he wasn't thrilled about it, he did owe Rogue an apology. When he made it up to their room, she wasn't anywhere to be seen. Instead of seeking her out, Remy decided that he'd just apologize the next time he saw her and opted for watching the game by himself.

He flipped on the 92" flat screen before heading to the wet bar for a beer and his favorite ice cream. Opening the mini fridge, Remy was met with an empty spot where the little tub of pralines and cream usually sat. He slammed the door shut with one hand as he pounded the counter with the other before striding back to couch and flopping down with his beer. The apology that was on the tip of his tongue moments before went up in smoke as he thought about another tongue lashing instead.

Hearing the noise, Rogue abandoned the search for her _Geaux Saints_ tee and walked into the common room. She was still wearing the black tank and shorties.

"What the hell was that?" She asked, her eyes darting around the room trying to figure out what was going on.

Remy startled at her voice, thinking he was alone in the suite. "_Dieu! _Where de fuck have y' been?"

Rogue's hands landed on her hips as she leveled a sardonic stare at him, one eyebrow quirked up. "In my closet, tryin' ta find a different shirt."

At least he had the good sense to look sheepish for a moment as he tossed the jersey at her. He watched as she deftly caught it without a word. Before the words 'I'm sorry' could follow, he remembered the missing ice cream.

"Did y' eat my pralines and cream?" He calmly asked.

For the first time since he'd known her, Rogue actually looked guilty as she focused on the plant in the corner instead of on him. "Yeah, while ya were gone. Ah begged Tante for a ride on Saturday so Ah could buy ya some more, but Ah forgot 'bout bringin' it up 'til now."

She shivered suddenly, bringing her hands up to vigorously rub her exposed upper arms. Many of the manor's rooms had their own thermostat and Remy's suite was one of them. It was much colder in here than the rest of the house.

He watched as chill bumps rose up on her bare skin. The thin tank did nothing to hide the tightening nipples on her full breasts. The whole outfit screamed college co-ed, minus the leggings and gloves of course. And while he never went to college, he fondly remembered two delectable nights with a few of Xavier's* more adventurous sophomores. The look was cute, hot even as the familiar rush of blood to his groin attested.

Angry at himself for his wandering thoughts, Remy took it out on Rogue. "It wasn't yo's t' take."

"Ah said Ah'm sorry!" The fire simmered to life under the surface of Rogue's exclamation.

Remy jumped up off the couch. "_Non, _actually all y' said was that y' ate it and bought a new one. _Mais_, y' never said y' were sorry."

She crossed her arms over her chest as she cocked her hip. "Ah would think the fact that Ah bought ya a new tub would indicate that Ah didn't do it maliciously."

"_Non, _that could indicate a lot a' things, like y' were hopin' y' wouldn't get caught." Remy countered.

"Fine. Whatever ya think. Have it yer way." Rogue threw her arms up in the air as she spun around into the bedroom.

Having already had enough with the jersey incident downstairs, she just didn't want to deal with him any longer. She could feel a headache coming on, but she needed to change before she could find peace somewhere else. She tossed on the closest shirt available as she left the bedroom.

"Have fun bein' by yerself t'day. It seems ta be what ya always want." Rogue threw at him, storming out of the room before he could respond.

Now in a sour mood, Remy sulked over how she'd ruined the excitement and anticipation he had over the game. Going downstairs to make meaningless bets with his brother didn't hold its typical interest either. Kicking his feet up on the coffee table, he chugged down a couple gulps of his beer before slamming it down on the side table and crossing his arms in a huff. It seemed even his best intentions were backfiring against him now.

**(X)-(X)-(X)**

It had been at least three days since Bella Donna had left the compound. She figured she was making about 15 miles a day, but the blinding fog that she woke up to each morning was so completely disorienting that she didn't know until it cleared out if she was still heading west. Even after that confirmation, she had no clue if she'd strayed north or south from her course. For all she knew, she could have backtracked inland two miles and swerved the other thirteen instead of heading in a straight line. At least the sand dunes had changed from the golden orange she'd first encountered to a pale brown. Hopefully that meant she was getting close to the edge of the desert. The freezing nights followed by the scorching days were wrecking her skin and hair. It would take days of expensive spa treatments to get back to her pampered self.

While she'd been switching between extra layers and hardly anything at all, she fortunately hadn't had to worry about food. There were plenty of gemsboks around for the hunt. The African antelope meat was tender and smooth, like a fine venison steak. The only thing it was missing was some good Cajun seasonings. Unfortunately, her kill usually drew hyenas and jackals. Belle had to quickly take her cut and flee if she didn't want to waste the energy taking down the predators. Once safely away, she made up her survival base camp and settled in to roast it over a fire.

While she ate, she was able to figure out another advantage to having the gemsboks around: location. She now knew she was in Southern Africa and the decision to head west had been a good one. The desert that surrounded her was either the Namib or Kalahari. If it was the former, she'd hit the coast and have to walk north or south to the nearest town. If the latter, she'd run into the nearest town before she ran out of desert. No matter which, she should be home within the next few days, a week tops.

Now that she wasn't tied to a chair with a disgusting insect of a man groping her, she'd also had some time to clear her head and think. Renault had said her father instructed him to take care of her, but that just didn't make sense. She was her father's pride and joy. There was no way he would be involved in the abuse to which she'd been subjected. Besides, Marius had been pushing for a marriage between the Thieves and Assassins Guilds for as long as she could remember. It was why she'd been allowed to get away with so much with Remy.

So that only led her to the conclusion that Renault had acted on his own. But his crucifix clearly identified him as one of the Assassins' priests. He would know that any action against Marius's daughter would be viewed as a direct action against Marius himself. And Belle knew of no one who lived to tell stories of betrayal. Even lies devised to pump up a reputation were met with swift retribution. Staring down certain death, why ever would Renault kidnap her and then not take full advantage of her if his motive had simply been personal lust?

No matter how many times she went over it in her head, Belle decided she had to be missing a piece of the puzzle. And the only way she was going to get that piece was to make it back home as soon as possible. She'd describe her ordeal to her father and piece it together with his point of view of the events. Together, they'd ferret out the details and there'd be no one left who was involved in Renault's plot that wouldn't be rightly punished.

Belle glanced up at the sun, trying to gauge both time and direction. Deciding she was still on track and had several more hours of daylight, she trudged on hoping the end was near.

**(X)**

*Xavier University of Lousiana at New Orleans


	15. Chapter 14

**Thanks** to **dog444, november123, Demon Flame, Anne Marie Masen, Jean1, Avid reader, Scottfan, couplest, NanamiYatsumaki, Warrior-princess1980, Suze Nora, RRL24,** and all the guest reviews that gently reminded me to update. I think y'all should be pleased.

.

**Chapter 14**

The last week and a half at the LeBeau Manor had been pretty uneventful. Etienne was suddenly busy on assignments and Rogue barely got to see her new friend during his free time. As usual she avoided Remy as much as possible, not that it was hard since he'd been dispatched to handle the assignations from his lost bet. Though none of them required him to be gone more than a day, he'd been in and out of the house at odd hours. And Mercy and Henri were on a surveillance assignment.

Left to her own devices, Rogue ended up either training when Etienne was home or swimming in the main house's family pool while working on her tan. Surprisingly, the pool saw very little use and she could relax in her black string bikini without worrying about keeping up the appearance of her uncontrollable mutation. She used a long cover-up when walking through the house to avoid any suspicions or cast doubt.

But since a storm front had moved in late last night, the pool was out of the question. Etienne happened to be home, so she'd spent the day in the master thief training room.

Finishing up a simple, but lengthy routine, Rogue parted ways with Etienne to wander back upstairs. As she stepped out into the hall, she noticed that Jean-Luc's office door was ajar again. Unlike last time when she'd been the one to readily snooped, this time the vehemence of heated voices propelled toward her. Rogue chewed on her lip for a moment, deciding whether to eavesdrop again. Even though she'd been married into the family under the guise of joint leadership, she'd yet to be included in either Guild's operations.

It was Emil's shout of "_Impossible!" _that made up her mind. She'd never heard the usually jovial man spew such negativity. Creeping up to the door, Rogue tried to stay out of sight in case someone slammed the door in her face again.

"Workers are in and out a' de place every day. Henri's said as much. And Mercy ain't been able t' weasel anythin' out a' any of 'em. There's got t' be somethin' we're not seein'." Remy informed the small group.

Well, that at least filled Rogue in on some of the details about her in-laws rushed exit a few days earlier.

"De warehouse has no windows, no closed-circuit video surveillance, and no discernible entrances. Even if we knew some way t' get in, we have no clue what we'd be walkin' int'." Toussaint pounded his fist down on Jean-Luc's desk, the frustration clear in his agitated response.

The noise startled Rogue. She fought to keep her reaction under control, but she must have moved just enough to catch Theoren's attention. He had been the only one in the room that she could see. It only made sense he could see her just as well. Once again, he jumped up and strode over to the door.

"I see we still have a problem wit' de garbage." As he was about to slam the door in her face again, Jean-Luc's words stopped him.

"Let her inside, _neveu_." The patriarch commanded.

Jean-Luc had purposely been the last to enter the office when the group gathered so that he could leave the door slightly open. There was no guarantee that Rogue would ever eavesdrop again, but he'd run out of options. Even with his vast connections and methods to dig out the most obscure of details, Jean-Luc had not been able to find out any more information about Rogue than he already knew. He was down to his last resort: bluffing her into revealing her own secrets.

Theoren opened the door wider for her, but stayed in place like a Greek sphinx standing on guard to kill her if she incorrectly answered some unspoken riddle. Sensing his ire, she tentatively stuck her head around the door until she could see Jean-Luc. When she made no further movement to come in, he waved her over to Theoren's now empty chair.

"Take a seat, _s'il vous plaît_." His tone was all business.

She hesitated barely a second before a strengthened resolve shone in her eyes. With shoulders squared, she confidently walked into the room and took the indicated seat. But her posture betrayed her sudden haughtiness. Rogue sat on the edge of the club chair, her back straight as a board. Her knees were primly pressed together and her hands were neatly folded in her lap.

Theoren continued to glare daggers at her. Emil and Toussaint looked toward their patriarch before turning their focus solely on Rogue. And Remy slumped down in his chair as he let his head loll onto the back so he could stare up at the ceiling. Jean-Luc's eyes never left hers as he let her sweat it out a little before jumping in with the most minimal of details.

"What's yo' most treasured possession, Rogue?" He started, seemingly out of nowhere.

It was an easy question, but one she'd never been allowed to voice before. Even now, she knew better than to admit she would do absolutely anything to guarantee her total freedom from both guilds. She'd even be willing to give up control over her mutation if it meant she never had to be someone else's pawn again.

"Ah s'pose it'd be my karambit for what it represents." She settled on something that would seem logical for an assassin.

Jean-Luc's eyes narrowed minutely at her uncertainty. He knew she hadn't revealed her true item, but it wasn't really necessary at this point in time. A physical object would work better for his purpose anyway.

"_Vas bien_, let's say that yo' karambit was taken and y'd do anythin' t' get it back. Y' find out it's in a place that has no doors or windows." He started before being rudely interrupted by one of his nephews.

"_Noncle!" _Theoren objected. "Y' can't seriously tell this _assassin ordures_ de details a' de heist! We don't even know if she's trustworthy."

Jean-Luc leveled a cold glare on the younger man. "Am I not still patriarch a' this guild?"

Properly chastised, Theoren looked down toward his feet. "_Oui, noncle_."

"Then don't y' think I know best where our business is involved?" He continued.

"_Oui, noncle_." His nephew quietly answered.

"_Bon_. Then I'll trust that y'll leave de judgment of a person's character up t' me as well." This time, Jean-Luc didn't wait for an answer before turning back to Rogue.

"As I was sayin', Y' know people who've been inside this place, but they won't talk t' y'. Even if y' could find a way in, y'd have no way a' knowin' if y'd be walkin' int' a trap. And while y' treasure yo' karambit, it's not worth payin' de price a' yo' freedom if y' fail." Jean-Luc finished with the description.

Her nearly imperceptible flinch at losing her freedom gave away what she'd held back earlier. It was an interesting reveal. For all intents and purposes, she was free to come and go as she pleased with the exception of assuming guild leadership. It was a constant that was unavoidable. He suddenly realized Rogue wasn't that different from his son, though she was smart enough not to whine about her future role, unlike Remy. Nevertheless, he'd have to fully analyze that tidbit later.

Relaxing back in his executive chair, he asked, "How would y' go 'bout retrievin' it?"

Rogue's stiff body posture eased a little as she thought over the puzzle. Her eyes darted back and forth as she went over different scenarios. If she was in the same situation, the best she could come up with was touching someone to gain the knowledge she needed.

"Ah guess the only alternative is ta steal the missin' information." She finally answered.

Remy barked out a laugh as he sat up to stare her down. "Everyone in this room is a master thief, _amoureux_. If we ain't figured out how t' steal it, why would we bother t' ask _you_."

Jean-Luc let his son's ridicule hang in the air, watching Rogue's cheeks burn red with an embarrassed blush before he eased some of her suffering. "I take it y' have an idea a' how t' steal it since y' wouldn't have suggested de obvious otherwise."

"Actually, yeah." Rogue softly answered. "A mutant could get it."

Intrigued, the patriarch steepled his fingers together as he brought them up to his lips. His elbows rested on the arms of his chair as he thought over what he knew about her mutation. Supposedly, her only power was an uncontrollable deadly touch. But what more was she hiding?

Hoping to ferret out some more information about her, he asked, "What kind of mutant?"

She gave away another tell when her body tensed again. Of course only a master in the art of body language would pick up the subtle signals, but Jean-Luc was very well practiced in reading people. It was required skill for a man in his position.

"A telepath could do it." Rogue tried to downplay, seeing the interest in Jean-Luc's eyes and knowing it had more to do with her and less about her answers.

"Ah, but where t' get a strong enough telepath that wouldn't look too closely at our request, _hein_? We have no one in de guild who could do it." Jean-Luc pressed. "And we don't know if de facility and its personnel are guarded against just such an attack."

Rogue just collapsed back in the chair with a shrug. All she wanted was to be out from under her father-in-law's scrutinizing eyes.

Without taking his gaze off her, he waved off the group. "Think 'bout what we've discussed so far. We'll reconvene tomorrow."

Everyone started making their way out of his office, but he stopped Rogue and Remy when they stood to leave as well. "I need t' talk t' de both a' y'. Emil, please shut de door."

Remy flopped back down in the chair, but Rogue opted to stay rooted in place. When the others had finally left and the door was securely closed, Jean-Luc rounded his desk to sit on the edge closest to his son and daughter-in-law.

Gently, as if soothing a startled deer, he started: "Y' know, I've been 'round long enough t' recognize when someone knows somethin' but is afraid a' others findin' out."

"Ah don't know-" Rogue tried to bluff, but he waved away her naivety.

"No one here, in this room, intends y' harm. I would hope in de time y've lived wit' us that y've come t' trust us and know that we wouldn't betray any confidences y' shared." Jean-Luc soothed, projecting the right level of zeal to gain her faith.

He paused for a few seconds and let that sink in before he added, "Yo' idea for a telepath was a good one. But I sense y' know a better way."

Rogue fidgeted with her fingers as her weight shifted first from one foot then back to the other. Without a doubt, she trusted Etienne's friendship. And Mercy had shown nothing but a genuineness to be a sister. Perhaps it was time she gave the same courtesy to the rest of Remy's immediate family. And maybe when the time came, they wouldn't condemn her for her role in the botched wedding. Maybe they'd actually help her get away from Marius' wraith.

'_Or maybe they'll just throw me ta the wolves_.' The cynical side of her mind echoed. Still, she hadn't been able to come up with any good ideas on her own. Even the hope of their help shined like a bright light in her ever darkened world.

"Trust is a two-way street. If ya want me ta trust ya, I have ta know that ya can trust me too." Rogue said, but her tone was pleading.

"_Absolument_." Jean-Luc readily agreed.

Taking a breath, she pulled off one of her gloves as she stepped closer to him. Before she could raise her hand more than a few inches toward his bare arm, Remy jumped out of the chair and pushed his father out of harm's way.

"_Non! _Her skin is deadly." He protested, knowing all too well the powerful punch of her mutation.

Jean-Luc placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder, gently pushing him out from in front of Rogue. "It's alright, _fils_. I know what I'm doin'."

Remy reluctantly nodded and backed off, but only by a half step. His body was coiled, ready to act again if his father should need him.

Again, Rogue raised her hand. As the distance closed between their exposed skin, she said: "Pick a color, then focus on yo' favorite childhood memory."

"_D'accord_." He answered as he eliminated the last little bit of space by willingly grabbing her hand.

After several seconds, nothing happened and Jean-Luc was beginning to think the rumors about her abilities were exaggerated. But Remy had experienced the wraith of her mutation and had described the few seconds as intense burning, like acid being forced through his veins. Something was not adding up and Jean-Luc couldn't quite put his finger on it.

No more than a moment passed before Rogue was pulling away. "Yellow. Because it was the color of Tante's dress she was wearin' the first time ya successfully stole one of her cookies off the coolin' rack."

With her revelation, Jean-Luc suddenly understood why she was such a deadly asset to the assassins. The missing pieces fell into place. Not only was she able to garner any information she wanted, she had control over the deadly aspect of her mutation and could turn it on and off at will. She could have killed him right then, stolen all of his guild's secrets. And after a short battle with Remy, Marius would have control of both guilds through his adopted daughter.

They were fortunate such a betrayal wasn't planned. Or at the very least, Rogue wasn't ready to enact it yet. Still, Jean-Luc's gut said she wouldn't hurt him now or in the future. And he trusted that instinct.

"_Incroyable!" _Jean-Luc exclaimed, flabbergasted by _both_ of her correct answers.

He no longer saw her as simply an assassin asset or a means to unify the guilds, but rather a tool that could be used by the thieves to score even bigger, more profitable heists. The adoption of his son for the purpose of gaining the power promised in the old prophecies exponentially increased when the woman in front of him married into his family and guild.

Remy broke his father's avaricious thoughts when he vehemently accused: "I thought y' couldn't control yo' mutation."

Rogue's attention turned from Jean-Luc to her husband. She blinked slowly before answering, "Ah never said that."

"_Ouais. _Y' did. On our weddin' night." Aware of the audience of his father, he edited his words. "Y' said y' couldn't consummate de marriage because y' couldn't be touched."

"That's right. When Ah activate certain abilities of my mutation, Ah can't be touched. Ah just left out the part that Ah can consciously decide when ta turn it on and off." As an afterthought, she added: "And after all the horrible things ya said ta me that night, did ya honestly think Ah'd just fall inta bed with ya regardless of our marital status?"

"Like y' didn't dish out as good as y' got." Remy tried to start another fight, but his father intervened.

With a sharp look toward his son, his eyes conveyed a reminder about their talk regarding respecting his wife. When he was sure his son had capitulated at least enough to save the argument for the privacy of their suite, he turned back to Rogue.

"After that li'l display a' skill, y' won't begrudge me if I assign y' t' this mission. The item is too valuable t' pass up de contract. And y' _are_ s'pose t' go on a joint mission wit' Remy t' learn de ropes a' de Thieves Guild." Jean-Luc smoothly persuaded.

Rogue paused for a second as she reconciled with the fact that she was yet again being used. Though the circumstances were more pleasant and didn't demand such a high price from her, she couldn't help feeling wanted simply for her mutation rather than what she brought to the family as a person. But if it helped her get away from Marius, so be it.

"Ah'll try my best." She promised. It was all she could give him.

"_Bon_. Then I expect y' t' be here for de rest a' our meetin's." Jean-Luc patted her shoulder before heading back to his chair. With nothing more to be said, he had effectively dismissed them both.

Incensed, Remy glared at Rogue until she started moving to get away from him. He followed closely behind her, waiting until they were both out in the hall and his father's office door shut before he grabbed her upper arm.

"Hey!" Rogue objected, but he cut her off.

"Y' owe me an explanation and I ain't lettin' go 'til I get it." Remy spat out. "Y' said y' couldn't control-"

"-Shut up!" Rogue quickly spoke over him. "Ah'll tell ya, but not here."

Refusing to let go of the tight grip on her arm, he dragged her along behind him. "_D'accord_. We'll go upstairs. But y' ain't weaslin' out a' it."

Allowing him to drag her through the various levels of the house, she hoped that her lack of fight would get him to settle down some. There was no doubt she could take him out again if the situation escalated. But she didn't want to resort to that level of violence after just gaining a huge chunk of trust from Jean-Luc.

As they approached Remy's suite, he punched in the security protocols and flung her through the door in one swift movement. Remy only waited for the door to completely shut before he demanded, "Explain."

"Explain what? That encompasses a ton of subjects with lots of answers. Ya have ta be more specific." Rogue calmly countered, crossing her arms over her chest.

Though her tone was neutral, the words were more sarcastic than she'd meant. But she did want him to be specific. There was no way she was going to give up something he didn't directly ask.

"Y' know damn well what I mean. I want t' know everythin' 'bout yo' mutation and this li'l lie y' perpetuated since our weddin' night." Remy answered, the anger still bleeding in his only semi-controlled mannerisms.

Rogue took a deep breath, hesitant to give anything away. She'd played her secrets so close for so long, that she was terrified they'd be used against her now. And while she was trying to learn to trust Remy's family, the constant hatred she earned from him left the desire to be truthful lacking.

Instead of launching into an explanation, she had to be sure Remy and Jean-Luc would be the only ones who knew her secret. "Is this room safe? Soundproof and all that?"

Remy rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, exasperated by her diversion. "Of course it is. Now quit stallin' and start answerin'."

"Fine!" Rogue yelled, frustrated. She took a moment to calm down before adding: "It's just that what Ah'm gonna tell ya, nobody knows. Not even Marius. And if Ah'm gonna put myself out on the line like that, trust ya like that, Ah gotta have yer trust in return."

What little control Remy had suddenly evaporated as rage boiled to the surface again. Storming over, he roughly grabbed her ponytail to force her to look up at him. When she tried to counter his attack, he caught both her wrists in his much larger free hand and held her in place.

Closing the distance between them, his mouth hovered over hers as he vehemently spoke: "From de minute I first laid eyes on y', y've done nothin' but deceive. There's no reason why I should give y' an ounce a' my trust, regardless a' what y' have t' say. Y' owe me that much based on de farce a' our marriage alone. And when I know y' ain't gon' shove that prized knife a' yo's in my back in de middle a' de night, then _maybe_ I'll show y' de same courtesy. 'Til then, y' seem t' know way too much 'bout me and mine than any of us know 'bout y'."

His warm, fresh breath washed over her face. Though he had her in a firm hold, he wasn't hurting her and she could easily break free at any moment. With the position he kept her, there was no place to look but in his dark ruby eyes. The stormy passion glowed in the depths of their exotic colors as they darted over her face. Only a few inches separated her from the radiating heat of his body. For the first time since she'd known him, Rogue wanted to press into him instead of pull away. Find out if all the rumors she'd heard about the other side of his passion were true. But she couldn't. Not until she knew what he'd do with the information about her mutation.

Lightly tugging on his hand, she peacefully signaled that he would get no further fight from her. Remy allowed her to break away and the grasp on her hair loosened enough that she was able to sink down onto the sofa. Though less rigid than earlier, he still opted to stand and look down on her than join her on the plush leather. Her head rested in her hands as she thought about where to start.

"Despite what ya think, Ah haven't been deceivin' ya this entire time." Remy scoffed at her admission, but she pushed through. "There've only been two times, both the day of the weddin'. The first was goin' along with Marius' plan ta marry me off ta ya instead of his precious daughter."

Rogue couldn't keep the scorn out of her voice as she bitterly thought back on his treatment of her. From the start, Marius had made it clear that she was property of the guild and nothing more. She would do her part to play the dutiful daughter the few times they were in 'public', meaning out in the open at the guild headquarters. But outside of that charade, Julien and Bella Donna were royalty and she was swamp scum on the bottom of Marius' shoe.

"And de second?" If Remy held any sympathy for her, he didn't let it show in his emotionless prompt.

"When Ah told ya Ah couldn't be touched." She answered in as equally an unaffected voice. "My family dynamic ain't been as rosy as yers. Right before we left on our 'honeymoon', Ah learned somethin' from Marius Ah wasn't expectin'. Add that in with how intensely angry and smashed ya were, and Ah just couldn't handle some drunken roll in the sheets with a man Ah didn't want ta marry in the first place."

Though her revelation that she didn't want to marry him as much as he didn't want to marry her was news to him, he crossed his arms over his chest and shut off his thoughts for the moment. Trying not to get irritated with her side tracking, he coldly said, "Don't care 'bout yo' sob story."

"Even if ya don't understand it, ya have ta gimme some leeway. It's been just as hard for me as it has been for ya." Rogue finally looked up at him, her eyes pleading for some sympathy.

Instead, Remy clenched his jaw and looked toward the bedroom, unable to handle the desperation in her gaze. If he let her, she would no longer be the evil bitch he'd been forced to marry and would instead become a living, breathing person who had been terribly hurt by everyone who'd surrounded her growing up.

"What 'bout yo' mutation?" He tried to get back on subject. "In the trainin' room that day, it felt like y'd shot liquid fire int' my veins and yet y' did nothin' t' _mon père _t'day."

Rogue turned in on herself, wrapping her arms around her shoulders as she brought her knees up to her chest. "My mutation manifested when Ah was twelve. Aunt Carrie tried ta hide it from Marius. But when he found out, he tied me ta a chair and taped my hand around hers until Ah sucked her dry. It took ten minutes and we both were in excruciatin' pain. A hundred times worse than what ya felt that day in the trainin' room. Ah couldn't control anythin', so her essence ended up as a ghost inside my head. When Marius was satisfied she was dead, he left me taped ta her rottin' corpse for two days as a promise of worse punishment if Ah ever disobeyed him. Not only did Ah have ta deal with that, but Ah had ta fight off Aunt Carrie's personality. It was like two minds livin' in one body until Ah finally had ta lock her away in a dark corner of my mind. From that point on, Ah was all alone."

Even after witnessing all the horrific things he'd run across in his years of thieving, Remy couldn't begin to imagine what terror Rogue had been through. His legs gave out from under him and he flopped down in the corner of the couch. With his mouth suddenly dry and hooked on the events of her past, he fought to choke out: "What happened next? How'd ya learn control?"

"Marius continued ta parade targets in for me ta dispose. He didn't know 'bout me absorbin' all those people's psyches too. Each time, the same thing happened as did with Aunt Carrie. Until one day a target was so exceptionally filthy, Ah couldn't take it anymore." Rogue answered, unwilling to rehash the details of the dirty man's violent, explicit sexual exploits he forced on men, women, and children. It was no wonder he'd come up as a target in an assassin contract.

"Ah was suddenly thrust in survival mode and it was either learn control or die. So Ah pushed myself ta exhaustion until Ah controlled what flowed in and outta me. From the outside, the result was the same so Marius was happy. But Ah no longer had ta deal with other people in my head. The rest was easy from there." Her simple shrug belied the difficulty of her journey.

Rogue buried her head against her knees, pressing her eyes into the bony protrusions to stop the flow of tears that suddenly threatened to burst. She did _not_ want to cry in front of Remy and give him more ammunition to torment her in a later fight. Focused on calming the turmoil, she basked in the blessed silence after her revelation.

Remy was lost in his own thoughts too. The distance he wanted to keep between them and cast her as the villainess was completely obliterated. What he saw next to him was a sad, lost little girl that had been used and abused her whole life. And he'd done nothing but add to her heartache. Guilt ate at his insides until he had to say something, anything to wash away the disgusting sensation.

"What all can y' do?" He asked, hoping the question was benign enough.

Rogue turned her head just enough for him to hear her without muffling her voice. "Anythin' from as little as takin' a bit of information. Or inflicting some serious pain and knockin' someone unconscious. Ah can steal another mutant's powers for a short time. Or killin' 'em all with a single touch and absorbin' their mind."

After a long, quiet pause, Remy said, "Molecular acceleration."

"Huh?" She looked at him for the first time since starting her confession.

"My mutation. It's molecular acceleration. I sense de potential energy in an object and charge it 'til it's kinetic." With a sad little smirk, he added, "I make things go boom."

After all that Rogue had told him, the corny joke wasn't as funny.

Matching his rueful smile, she admitted: "Ah know. Marius made me learn everythin' Ah could 'bout ya and yer family. Ya also have enhanced agility and dexterity, ya naturally block telepaths, and ya can manipulate the kinetic energy in weaker minds ta charm anyone inta doin' just 'bout anythin'."

"A' course y' know all that. Wouldn't be a very good assassin if y' didn't know yo' target like de back a' yo' hand." Remy offhandedly answered, a little voice in the back of his head saying he should be on his guard around her for when she finally tried to kill him. But after everything she'd told him, he stomped down the intuition as his prior cynicism raising its ugly head.

Not wanting to be reminded of her assassin upbringing, she switched back to the subject of her mutation. "Ah think Ah may be able ta hold on ta a mutation longer. Call it up at will if Ah ever needed ta use it. But Ah haven't run inta that many mutants, so Ah haven't had much chance ta practice."

"That'd be a pretty useful skill, if y' could master it. Make y' unstoppable." Remy begrudgingly admitted. "Maybe I could help y'."

"Yeah?" Rogue cautiously raised her head to better appraise him. She sensed no ulterior motives in his offer.

"_Ouais_." Pausing only a few seconds, Remy stretched out his open hand to her before he had a chance to second guess himself. "Truce?"

She gazed at his hand, deciding if the gesture was as innocent as it seemed or if he'd want something from her like everyone else. Could she trust him to be her first friend?

Realizing her hesitation, he added, "I know we didn't start on de best foot. And it ain't like we got t' suddenly like each other. I'm still pretty pissed 'bout bein' married t' y' instead a' Belle. Just sayin' we won't pick at each other anymore."

When she still didn't take his hand, he started to waiver in his offer. But before he could pull it back completely, she snatched his hand up in hers and gave him a shy smile. "Truce."

Indulging in the last half hour of reliving her pain, Remy suddenly wanted to protect her from any future evils the world tossed her way. Underneath the tough exterior, he saw a beautiful woman who just wanted someone to love her. Her little smile just made him want to close the distance between them and taste the sweetness on her lips. Feeling the familiar stirrings in his jeans, he quickly shook on their cease fire before breaking off the contact with her soft, smooth bare skin. He really needed to get laid.

With an awkward cough, Remy stood and tried to break the sudden tension. "Well, I think I'm gon' hit de trainin' room."

"Oh. Um, yeah." Rogue stood up too, jerking her thumb back toward the bedroom. "Already been. Ah think Ah'm just gonna take a shower and maybe read. Or take a nap."

"_D'accord_." Remy answered, but watched her twist her fingers for a few more seconds instead of moving. Fighting the discomfort, he finally broke his gaze from her and headed toward the door. "See y' 'round."

The phrase was horrible, as if he had just met an old acquaintance on the street after not seeing her for a long time. But he couldn't think of anything more suave to say.

"Yeah, see ya." Rogue agreed and turned her back on him.

Only time would tell if she made a wise choice by letting Remy past her defenses.

**(X)**

_Neveu –_ nephew

_Vas bien – _okay

_assassin ordures _– assassin filth

_amoureux _– sweetheart

_Incroyable _- Incredible


End file.
